Echoes Across the Void
by Teish
Summary: Aryna is pulled across the void into an alternate reality where she finds the Master and the Doctor still at odds. She also meets her long-dead husband. But not everyone is as she expected...
1. Crossing

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, or any of the official characters. Aryna, Marcan and the like are my characters.**

_A/N: A big nod goes out to the Doctor Who Audio Drama episode "The Chronic Rift" for the spark that gave me this idea in the first place. Check out .net to listen to their audio dramas!_

Aryna's head whipped forward and slammed into the console. She winced as she straightened and touched a fingertip to her forehead. She paused for just a moment at the sight of the red stain,

"Terrific," she muttered, clearly irritated.

"Alistair!" she called out much more loudly than was necessary.

"I'm right here," a quieter voice groaned from the other side of the console.

Aryna stood on her toes to get a better look and saw Alistair sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, "What are you doing down there? I seem to be bleeding, come take a look for me."

"Just, give me a minute. The TARDIS seems to be moving…"

Aryna rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently, "Of course it's moving! It's a ship Alistair, it quite frequently moves. Seriously, come take a look at this, I think it may be serious!"

Alistair shook his head slightly and let out a low moan when the movement made the pounding in his head intensify significantly, "No, you don't understand," he sighed, keeping his eyes closed in an effort to reduce the dizziness, "The console room appears to be spinning, quite violently in fact."

Aryna threw up her hands in disgust, "Really, you Earthlings are the most ridiculous lot of whiners that I've ever met."

She knelt on the floor next to him and pulled out a first aid kit from underneath the console. Taking out a medical scanner she started scanning Alistair's head while continuing her rant.

"One little bump on the head and you insist that you're mortally wounded."

Alistair refrained from observing that she had had a similar reaction to the relatively minor cut on her forehead.

"Oh… oh dear," Aryna murmured with obvious concern, "Well, young man, it appears that you have a rather nasty concussion. Why didn't you say so?"

Alistair wisely decided not to answer her.

"Here," she handed him a tiny tablet, "Let this dissolve under your tongue and you should be fine."

Surprisingly, Alistair felt better immediately. He opened his mouth to comment on this, when he noticed the expression on Aryna's face. He could tell that something was wrong, very wrong. He might be mistaken, but he thought she almost looked a little afraid. He had seen many things in the eyes of this mysterious Time Lady, but fear had never been one of them.

"Aryna?" he questioned tentatively.

Staring off into space she whispered, "I can hear them. But they're gone, all of them, gone. How can I hear them?"

Aryna looked so rattled that it was beginning to unnerve him, "Who? Hear who?"

She had an impossibly faraway look in her eye as she replied quietly, "The oldest and most mighty race in the universe. Looking down on the galaxies below; sworn never to interfere, only to watch."

Alistair was more than confused at this point, and was beginning to think that she must have hit her head REALLY hard. He was deciding how to tactfully suggest that perhaps she should rest for a bit when she abruptly jumped to her feet and frantically dashed about the console.

"Something is wrong, Alistair. Something is definitely wrong, and I intend to find out what it is!" she declared with her former confidence.

She paused to squint at a reading on the panel, "That's… odd. It's almost as if we materialized inside another… no… no, that can't be!"

She raced to the doors and flung them open, rushing recklessly outside.

Alistair followed her, still convinced that she had gone a bit loopy. He nearly collided with her, as she had stopped suddenly right outside of her TARDIS. Looking around, it was clear even to him that they were inside the console room of another TARDIS. It looked rather different from Aryna's, but it was still easily recognizable for what it was.

Someone, who he assumed must be a Time Lord, stood about four meters away. The Time Lord's eyes never left Aryna. His face was ashen, and he wore an expression of utter disbelief. A glance at Aryna and Alistair saw that her face was white, and she looked almost on the verge of tears. He didn't know what was going on, but he had never seen Aryna this unbalanced.

A single tear glistened in the corner of Aryna's eye. She refused to let it fall, refused to give in to the suffocating grief that she had never really overcome.

Her voice was soft, and laced with a pain that ran deep, "It can't be you. You're gone. You were gone even before the rest of them, weren't you. It's just a dream. You're just an illusion…"

A chilling, and all too familiar laugh echoed through the console room, "I assure you my dear Aryna, this is no illusion."

Aryna spun on her heel and came face to face with one particular Time Lord that she knew very well.

"Alistair, get back inside the TARDIS," she ordered.

"But," he began to protest.

"Now, young man!" she commanded with a tone that Alistair had heard from his mother several times growing up.

He didn't dare argue, and hurried into the TARDIS, closing the doors behind him. He did not like just sitting here waiting…


	2. Reverse Image

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or the official characters. I retain rights to Aryna, Marcan and any original characters.**

Aryna glared at the very face of evil and spat, "What are you doing here? Why did you bring my TARDIS here?"

The blonde Time Lord laughed once again, "Me? Why is it that you blame everything on me? I assure you, I had nothing to do with bringing you here. I merely interrupted the signal drawing your TARDIS in. I guarantee that if I hadn't you would be quite dead by now, again."

"Stop it!" Aryna's temper flared. "I hardly think I'd be dead."

"That's where your wrong, my dear. He killed you once centuries ago, and you didn't regenerate. There are some things that there's no coming back from, not even for a Time Lord. He killed you once to gain control of your TARDIS, Lady Arynalexia…"

Aryna raised her hand and interrupted, "That's enough! I've not used the title in lifetimes, and I certainly have no use for that ridiculous formal name. I go by Aryna, now, but you can address me as Dr. Aryna."

"Still just as arrogant as ever, I see! You claim to have given up titles, but your insistence that I call you Dr. contradicts that. After all, that is just as much a claim of superiority as any title."

Aryna's eyes flashed and her barely controlled temper raged across the delicate features of her youthful face. She could be mistaken for a teenager, but for her eyes. The hazel eyes, so filled with anger, held age-old wisdom, and the weariness of one who has lived to see more than they should.

The second Time Lord stepped forward to place a hand on Aryna's shoulder, "Please Aryna, just listen to him. Believe me, this is as startling for us as it is for you. You see, you are no longer in your own timeline. You've been pulled into an alternate universe. Here, you…" he paused and Aryna could read the buried grief in his eyes that told her he was telling the truth, "You died so many years ago. Centuries now."

Their gazes locked for long moments. Aryna looked into the eyes of one so familiar. The single tear that she had held in check finally made its way down her pale face.

She spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "I lost you lifetimes ago, Marcan," she regarded him for several heartsbeats before continuing, "But you aren't my Marc, are you?" she concluded regret filling her eyes.

It was mirrored in his as well, "No, I suppose not."

The Master had had quite enough of the sappy reunion and rolled his eyes.

"Are we done with this yet? Can we move on to the important matters now?" He questioned impatiently.

"You have yet to explain yourself to my satisfaction," she replied with a practiced air of superiority.

Marcan was secretly amused by how well she could wear the cloak of aristocracy when needed. It intimidated most, but was not likely to get her anywhere with this particular Time Lord.

"See what I mean," he sighed with exasperation, "You're still addressing me as if you were Lady Aryna of Gallifrey! If you've really abandoned your title as you claim, then consider abandoning that ridiculous air of superiority that you…"

Her temper got the best of her and she interrupted him angrily, "Stop it! Stop it this instant! I didn't come here to be lectured by the likes of you! If you didn't bring me here then tell me who did! Stop dancing around the issue!"

"I didn't bring you here!" he replied, equally angry by now, "The Doctor did! He brought you here to kill you and steal your TARDIS!"

Aryna was trembling with barely concealed rage, "You're LYING!"

She lunged towards the Master, intent on tearing him limb from limb, but Marcan read her intent and wrapped a strong arm around her waist to restrain her. Infuriated and puzzled by his interference she lashed out again, directing her anger at the Master.

"You. Are. Lying. Tell me why!"

"Aryna," Marcan whispered in her ear, trying to calm her with a soothing tone of voice, "It's true. Over three hundred years ago, the Doctor killed you, and stole your TARDIS. His own had been destroyed."

Aryna took all of what he had just told her in. Her temper died down considerably, but she was far from satisfied with their explanations. She gently pulled away from Marcan and took several steps before turning back to face both Time Lords.

"So," she began coolly, "Why would the Doctor kill me specifically?"

Marcan and the Master exchanged glances before Marcan spoke, "You were sent to bring him home. He had been tried in absentia, and, though it's unheard of on Gallifrey, sentenced to death. He had killed the entire High Council of the Time Lords, and it threw our whole world into an uproar. The newly-elected High Council was debating between sending the Master, or sending you to bring him home. You convinced them that you stood a better chance of bringing him back because of his… regard… for you. His own TARDIS had been destroyed, and he was effectively trapped on a remote, barren planet. You went there, and you already know what he did when you arrived."

The grief in his eyes still seemed fresh to Aryna. Very few would notice it, since he hid it well. He was a Time Lord after all. But Aryna still saw it in the eyes that were so familiar, yet, so different. He looked… time-worn.

_I wonder, do I have the same look in my eyes?_

_Yes._

Aryna visibly started, despite all of the years of discipline and instruction, she was unable to conceal it.

She focused her thoughts and answered in kind, _Well now, that was unexpected. Still, etiquette would dictate that we refrain from conversing in this fashion since there is a third party involved._

_Agreed._

"What do you mean by 'his regard for me'," Aryna asked pointedly.

Marcan hesitated, and the Master took it upon himself to answer her.

"The Doctor fancied himself in love with you," he replied with a bit of a shrug, somewhat amused by the faint shock he read in her eyes, "Wanted you to leave Gallifrey with him back in the day. You chose to stay behind… with Marcan. I don't think he ever really forgave you for that. By the same token, I doubt that he planned to kill you. He probably thought that I'd be the one sent to fetch him. You had the misfortune of being the first to arrive, and I was there only in time to see you die. I tried to stop him, but… I was… I couldn't."

The last sentence puzzled her, and she felt that everyone was dancing about a great elephant in the room, trying to avoid mention of it, "What are you not telling me?"

Marcan looked at the Master, "You have to tell her. That could very well be the real reason why he brought her here."

Aryna thought it better to wait quietly for the Master to explain. For several minutes none of them said a word. Finally he broke the silence.

"You were sent to bring the Doctor back, but I couldn't let you go alone. You thought that because of his past feelings for you, he wouldn't harm you. I followed you, because I didn't trust him, regardless of what you thought. I was barely a step behind you, but I arrived just as he buried a knife in one of your hearts. It was poisoned though, and somehow inhibited your body's ability to utilize the regenerative energy released. You couldn't regenerate. You bled to death in my arms… but something inexplicable happened. At the time, I had no regenerations left, but just before you died, you somehow transferred your remaining regeneration cycles to me. The sudden influx of energy into my system triggered my own regeneration, and that gave the Doctor time to escape in your TARDIS. When I woke, he was gone, and there was nothing to do but take your body home."

"But that's not possible. Only in legend, has it ever been done. I certainly have no idea how to do it. Granted, I'm not your Aryna, but still… That knowledge is beyond even me."

Irritation seeped into his demeanor, "I didn't say that I could explain how it happened, but it did! Regardless of what you think, it is possible that the Doctor believes that you posses that knowledge. Considering that he is drawing close to the end of his regenerations, he is almost certainly looking for a way to extend his own life."

"But I don't know how!" she insisted.

Marcan placed a hand on her shoulder, "We believe you, Aryna. But the Doctor, he's not exactly sane."

"Yes, well, some things never change."

The Master smiled at her, "You have though, I see."

"Things where I come from are… different," she said carefully, "Many things are different."

"You refer to the Time War, I assume?"

Aryna looked sharply at the Master and her eyes narrowed, "What do you know of it?"

"The same war occurred in this universe, but with a far different outcome I would imagine. You said earlier that Marcan was gone 'even before the rest of them'. You meant the Time Lords, didn't you?"

She looked away for a moment, "I should choose my words more carefully," looking back at them she continued, "Still, what's done is done. Yes, in my reality all of Gallifrey was destroyed, and the Time Lords with it. Only a few of us survive, and even that is… complicated."

Understanding dawned in Marcan and he spoke, "That's why you were surprised to hear them. You grew so used to… to silence, that when you heard the Time Lords here… you didn't expect that."

Astonished that he read her so easily, but unwilling to admit it, she asked, "What are you talking about?"

The Master laughed once again as only he could, "You're quite the open book Aryna. Your mental walls have weakened from disuse. You might consider thinking a bit more quietly for now."

Aryna swallowed a biting retort and took a deep, steadying breath. She calmed her mind and took care to put the mental barriers that she had been trained to employ from childhood back into place. He did have a point. In the time that she had lived since the destruction of the Time Lords, some of her basic mental reflexes had grown rather lax. She resolved to do something about that once this mess was sorted out. She had once taken great pride in her highly refined mental control, and it stung to think that he would catch her in a vulnerable moment. She straightened her shoulders and addressed the two Time Lords.

"Now then, if the Doctor from this reality has found a way to breach the walls between universes, then we have to put a stop to it. It's dangerous to multiple dimensions. Ever since the… end of the Time War, inter-dimensional travel has been closed off. Is that true of your world as well?"

Marcan answered this question, "Yes, without the combined efforts of Gallifrey and the Time Lords in every universe, it's impossible to stabilize things enough to keep the dimensions from separating. That's how we deduced that in at least one universe, the Time Lords had been destroyed. We had no idea that anyone would be able to bridge the void between worlds. You're right, even if he has found a way to do it, it's much too dangerous to allow the Doctor to continue, or anyone for that matter."

"Agreed," the Master chimed in, "But how do we proceed from here? We were able to intercept you, but I still can't extrapolate the Doctor's exact place or time. We don't even know where to look for him, let alone when. How he managed to escape with his life when your TARDIS was destroyed is a mystery."

Aryna eyed him warily, "I've had similar thoughts about you over the centuries."

Marcan interrupted yet another verbal sparring match before it began, "We are running short on time. Whatever we intend to do, we had better do it soon."

"Right you are," Aryna agreed, "You said that you had intercepted my TARDIS. How?"

"Simple, I'm blocking the signal that the Doctor was sending that brought your TARDIS here," the Master answered.

"What if you stop blocking it?"

"Then I'd imagine you would continue on your way, at least, your TARIDS would."

"That's the answer!" she exclaimed with a grin, "He doesn't know that we're on to him. He'll be expecting me, but not expecting that I have any idea what is really going on. We'll have the element of surprise in our favor."

Marcan frowned, "I don't like the risk that you would be taking, but I don't see that we have any other options at this point."

Aryna moved closer to the red Police Box, "Good. You can track me, right?" she asked the Master.

"Of course. I'll be able to follow you in my TARDIS. Still, I think it best that one of us goes with you. I don't think that you fully understand how dangerous the Doctor is."

Aryna was taken aback at the look of genuine concern on the Master's face. It was what she would expect of the Doctor, well, the Doctor from her world anyway. If the Doctor in this universe was a counterpart to the Master in hers, then it was true that it could be deadly to confront him. Her thoughts flew to Alistair.

"My companion, Alistair, I want him to travel in your TARDIS. It's too risky for him to stay with me."

The Master shrugged, "If you like, my dear. I don't think either TARDIS will be particularly safe, though."

Marcan stepped forward, "I'm going with you Aryna. He won't be expecting two of us."

Aryna deliberated for a moment. Seeing him, being near him, brought up so many memories, and with them the pain of losing him was brought to the surface anew. The distraction might disrupt her focus enough to prove fatal.

"I don't think I need…" she began.

"I wasn't asking permission. I was telling you that I will be going with you," he interrupted before she could argue.

She let out a frustrated sigh, "Fine. I'll go find Alistair. Get whatever you need ready to go. I'm not waiting around for you."

She turned on her heel and marched into her TARDIS.

Marcan watched her go, amazed at how much she reminded him of his own Aryna. There was a certain quality about her, something that had remained constant through every regeneration. He couldn't put it into words, but there was no mistaking it. He wondered briefly if his wife would have eventually become this fiery woman with the short red hair.

The Master regarded him thoughtfully, "Will you be alright with this? I can go with her and you can follow in my TARDIS."

Marcan smiled slightly at his friend, "Thank you for the offer. I'll be fine. I'd better get ready to go, I have the feeling that she really would leave without me!"

Laughter echoed in the console room and the Master grinned at Marcan, "I do believe that she would, old friend."

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	3. Into the Unknown

**Disclaimer: As usual, Doctor Who and the official characters are not mine. :-)**

_A/N: All 13 chapters of this story have been written and are only waiting to be posted. I'm deciding between posting a new chapter daily, or ever other day. Time will tell. :-) I have to say again that a big "Thanks" must go out to the Doctor Who Audio Drama guys, whose audio adventure "The Chronic Rift" gave me the inspiration for this story. I definitely recommend checking out their website and downloading some of the great dramas that they've produced! Now, the adventure continues!_

Alistair was less than happy about being ordered to wait in the TARDIS. He realized that Aryna was only concerned with his safety, and that she must have a good reason for her concern. Nevertheless, it stung a bit to be treated rather like a child. She looked so young, that it was easy for him to forget that she was centuries older. He was still pondering all of this when the doors opened and Aryna strode purposefully across the console room.

Resting a hand gently on the console she spoke softly, "This will be a rough ride. Are you up to it?" after a moment of silence she smiled at the reply the living time machine had given her.

Turning to Alistair she addressed him seriously, "Alistair, I know that you don't understand why I asked you to wait in here, and quite honestly, we don't have the time for me to explain right now. I want to assure you that I had good reason. I'll explain all of this later, well, as best I can anyway. For now, I just need you to keep trusting me and do what I ask without question. Will you do that… for me?"

Alistair was taken aback by the simple question. He was used to being ordered around by the 800-year-old alien in a teenager's body. The fact that she had asked him to trust her made him believe that whatever had happened out there had shaken her, badly. If that was the case, it did not bode well for their current situation.

Realizing that she was still waiting for an answer from him, he swallowed the lingering traces of irritation and simply said, "Alright."

Aryna smiled with relief. She had been half-expecting him to be angry that she had ordered him back to the TARDIS.

Turning to fiddle frantically with the controls she summed up, "Someone breached the walls between dimensions to bring me here. The consequences of such actions are dire to say the least. In order to stop him, I'll have to confront him face to face. There is a risk, of course," she paused to look up at her beloved ship, allowing her eyes to wander about, taking in every detail.

The cool, pale blue walls the color of the summer sky on Earth, the clean lines of the console, disrupted occasionally by the odd patch-up that she'd had to do in a hurry and yet never found the time to finish up properly, and her gaze stopped on the two antique chairs in the corner of the console room. She favored that corner for a quiet cup of tea. For so many years, this outdated TARDIS had been her home, and her friend. The thought of someone taking that away from her was enough to make her temper rage into an uncontrolled fire, but the cold fear gathering in her stomach overshadowed the anger. She would never admit it, or allow it to show, but the thought of losing her ship scared her more than anything. It was the only piece of Gallifrey that she had left, and she would hold onto it with every fiber of her being. The Doctor would have to kill her before she would willingly hand over the key. Unfortunately, he had already done that once before, and she was sure that he would have no problem doing it again.

Shaking aside the morbid thoughts, she looked to Alistair, "I want you to follow in the Master's TARDIS."

"The Master?" he asked incredulously, "Isn't he the evil Time Lord who was masquerading as Harold Saxon?"

"Yes, in our universe. But this is an alternate universe, and things are slightly different. Here, the Master has a role similar to the Doctor's in our universe. You will be safer with him than with me, I'm afraid. Before, you object, I'm concerned with more than just your safety, Alistair. I don't completely trust the Master, and I want you to keep an eye on him for me. I'll have my hands full with the Doctor, it seems."

"The Doctor's here?"

"Not our Doctor, I'm afraid. Yes, there is a Doctor in this universe, but apparently his intentions are malevolent. Better get whatever you want to take with you, Alistair. We truly don't have much time."

Her young companion grabbed the backpack that he kept ready to go and returned quickly to the console room. He found Aryna in conversation with the Time Lord he had seen in the other TARDIS and assumed that he must me the Master.

Approaching him, Alistair asked, "Shall we go?"

Aryna interrupted at this point, "Alistair, this is Marcan; he too is a Time Lord. Marcan will be traveling with me. The Master is right outside, waiting for you," she hesitated for a moment then rested a hand on his shoulder, "Be careful."

"I will," he replied with a nod before turning to leave.

When the doors closed behind him Marcan addressed Aryna, "He looks like our grandson."

"Yes," she conceded quietly, turning away to busy herself with readouts that did not need attending to.

"Is that why you travel with him?"

"Maybe at first," she answered without looking up, "But not anymore."

Turning, she crossed her arms and leaned back against the console, "Alistair is really bright. He's different… I think that boy might change the world. I know that someday… soon… he'll leave. And, it will be the right thing… I'll miss him though. He does remind me of… of Jalin… in many ways," sighing she turned back to the console, "I'm old and foolish."

"What does that make me?"

Aryna gave his attempt at humor a half-smile, "Very old."

The communications panel beeped and Aryna reached over to flick a switch, "Yes?"

The Master's voice came through the speaker, "Anytime you're ready."

"We're ready," she said confidently, "Just make sure that you don't lose track of us."

"Good luck," was his only reply before switching off the jamming signal that was keeping Aryna's TARDIS in one place.

Immediately, they dematerialized. It was a rough ride as she had predicted, but at least she was prepared for it this time. Holding on to the console as her ship pitched violently in every direction, she was reminded of the piloting skills, or more accurately lack of them, displayed by the Doctor in her universe. She wondered if this Doctor would resemble any of the incarnations of her Doctor. She hoped not, since that would make this situation even more disconcerting than it already was. Her musings were interrupted when they landed with a jolt.

Neither moved for a moment, listening for any hint of what they could expect outside of the doors. Aryna switched on the view screen and studied the image carefully.

"It doesn't appear that anyone is at home," she commented.

Marcan studied another panel, "Scans can't find anyone in the immediate area, but that doesn't mean anything."

"Well," Aryna began impatiently, "The only thing to do is go outside."

She handed Marcan a TARDIS key, "This is a spare. I'm going outside, wait a minute and then follow me. Make sure that you lock my TARDIS when you leave."

"You can't go out there alone," he shook his head, "It could be dangerous."

"Good grief, old man, of course it's dangerous! That's why I don't want anyone waiting for me just outside the doors to know that I have back-up. If you hear anything, run outside and rescue me!"

Marcan had to stifle a bit of a smile. This red-headed incarnation was quite amusing. But now was not the time or place for mirth.

He swallowed his laughter and answered, "Alright, but regardless, I won't wait in here long. Make sure that you're careful."

"I will. If the Doctor is after my remaining regenerations, then I doubt he would kill me right away. That would sort of defeat the point. My main concern is not letting him get his hands on my TARDIS," she said sternly.

Turning toward the doors, she took a deep breath before cracking one open and slipping outside.

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Alistair closed the doors of Aryna's TARDIS behind him. Gingerly, he moved away from the familiar red box and looked about the control room that he found himself standing in. He quickly spotted the blonde Time Lord who he had seen briefly on his last foray into this room.

Approaching him, Alistair held out his hand and introduced himself, "I'm Alistair, Aryna's friend."

The Master ignored the offered hand and replied, "Yes, I know. I'm the Master. I am more than happy to allow you to tag along for her sake, but I won't put up with any human foolishness on my TARDIS," he informed him disdainfully, "Don't wander off, and don't touch anything. Have a seat," he gestured to a chair in the corner.

Alistair quietly took a seat but kept his eyes on the Master. He was certainly arrogant and abrasive, but Aryna had been that way when he first met her, and could be still. He wouldn't hold that against the Master, but he did intend to keep an eye on him. If Aryna didn't completely trust him, then neither would Alistair.

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	4. Negative of a Positive

**Disclaimer: As per usual, I do not own Doctor Who, or any of the official characters or history.**

Aryna took a cursory glance about the medium-sized room that they had materialized in. The floors and walls were a grey sort of industrial color. The room was bare except for the bright red TARDIS standing in the middle. One doorway led to a corridor of some sort. She crept up to the edge of the opening and peered around the wall. The corridor was the same color as the room she was in. Both were devoid of markings or anything that might give her a clue as to where she was. The corridor appeared to be about 20 meters long with a closed door at the end of it. That was the only way out, and Aryna had the feeling that it was unlocked. She was expected, that much seemed apparent, and the thought did not put her at ease.

Marcan quietly exited the red Police Box, locking it behind him. Soundlessly, he crossed the room to stand next to Aryna.

"There's a door at the end of the corridor. I'm betting that it will be unlocked," she whispered to him.

"If that's true, I doubt that it's by accident," he frowned.

"Obviously. Still, I'm here to confront whoever has brought me all this way. I doubt that I'll be able to do that unless I walk through that door."

"I'll come with you," Marcan began but she was quick to interrupt him.

"That won't do at all. If we're both caught, then we have far fewer options. Let me go on ahead, alone. If it is the Doctor, then I really don't think that he'll kill me straight away."

Leveling a doubtful stare at her he asked, "And what exactly do you base that on?"

"Simple. If he does believe me to be able to extend his life somehow, then I'm much more valuable alive for the moment. If not, then from what you tell me, I'd still expect him to keep me alive long enough for him to gloat about whatever terrible plan for universal domination that he has this week."

"I don't like it, but you have a point. I'll stay back here and follow later. But be careful! You don't have any idea how ruthless the Doctor is," he cautioned.

"Believe me, I do," she replied cryptically.

Squaring her shoulders and straightening her denim jacket she walked boldly down the corridor and approached the door. Tapping the simple control panel opened the door. She took a moment to glance carefully around, but the room was too dark to see much past the door. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the darkness, door sliding shut behind her.

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Alistair sat quietly, observing the Master. The console room was quiet for several minutes, save for the gentle hum of the time machine. The ride was smooth, a vastly different experience from the one that brought them to this universe.

The Master moved quietly around the central console, pausing to check a small screen.

Looking up at Alistair he announced, "They've landed."

"When will we?" he ventured to question.

"We won't," the Master answered shortly, "Not until we hear from Marcan. It would be foolish to materialize where they did, considering that this is most certainly a trap. No, we'll wait."

"Do you at least know what planet they are on?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped, "They're on Nautil in an abandoned research outpost."

Alistair thought for a moment, "I've never visited there I guess."

An eerie laugh filled the room, "I'd be surprised if you had. It was staffed for only two months and the planet has been completely uninhabited both before and after that. And you forget, this is not your universe. You've never visited any planet here."

The Master had such an air of superiority that Alistair desperately wanted to answer with a biting retort. But, he admitted, that wouldn't do anyone any good. It was best to try to remain on the Master's "good side" as much as possible. With that in mind he simply nodded and kept quiet.

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Aryna heard the door slide shut behind her. She took a tentative step into the darkened room and fumbled in her pocket for her sonic screwdriver. Before she had a chance to find it, bright light flooded the room. She turned her head and squinted, shielding her eyes from the sudden change. Blinking rapidly, she adjusted to the light and looked towards the far end of the large room. A man stood silhouetted by one of the lights, only his profile readily visible. But to her astonishment, she recognized him immediately.

"Doctor?" she questioned with some surprise.

She had not expected to see this tenth incarnation of her friend here. But there was no mistaking the tall, skinny Time Lord with outrageous hair. She could even make out the black converse trainers. He moved closer to her and light spilled across his face. He was indeed the Doctor she knew, and she felt a moment of relief. It was short lived.

"Lady Arynalexiananoellaviere."

The tone he used was almost mocking, and the sound of a name that she no longer used sent a chill down her spine. She noticed the suit, black with charcoal pinstripes. Almost the same, just a bit off. A closer look at his features revealed a Time Lord remarkably similar to the one she mistook him for, but somehow, darker. Almost like a smudged carbon copy.

Aryna ignored the fear in the back of her mind and spoke, "Just Aryna now."

The Time Lord closed the gap between them, "Ah, so you too left Gallifrey?"

Aryna simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

"I am not who you expected… Aryna, was it?"

Eyeing him warily she kept her answers as short as possible, "You're not the Doctor I know."

He circled her slowly, never taking his eyes off of her, "Then you realize that you are no longer in your own universe, but in an alternate one."

"Of course I do."

He smirked, "Well, aren't we clever?" leaning close to her he asked, "And what else do you know?"

Their close proximity made Aryna uncomfortable, and she had to fight the urge to step back. She managed to maintain her illusion of cool detachment.

"I know that you bringing me here has placed both of our universes in jeopardy. I'm confident that the damage can be repaired though. It would be best if we started straight away. The walls between dimensions could destabilize rapidly."

The laugh that echoed off the walls was unnerving.

"Surely," he began with an evil grin, "You don't think that I've brought you here simply to help me close off a hole in the dimensional walls? You're not that thick! Do you know what I think? I think that you're more like your counterpart from my world than you could ever realize. And do you know what that means, 'just Aryna'? It means that while I'm apparently nothing like the Doctor you know, you are exactly like the Arynalexiananoellaviere that I knew. So, you see, I have the advantage."

"Why am I here?" she calmly demanded.

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Because you have something that I want."

She turned her head, bringing her almost nose to nose with the Doctor, struggling against the slight panic welling up in her stomach, "What would that be?"

The chilling laugh rang out again, "I offered to take you with me once, Lady Aryna, and I won't make that mistake a second time," a tinge of bitterness colored his remark, "I am interested in only two things: your TARDIS, and a certain knowledge you have regarding regeneration."

He had stepped away from her and the mention of her TARDIS kindled the temper that simmered just below the surface. She closed the distance between them and stood toe to toe with a version of the Doctor that scared even her, but she still spoke with an air of authority.

"My TARDIS is out of the question. As to any knowledge I have regarding Time Lord regeneration, you will find that my understanding of the subject is equivalent to that of any Gallifreyan. So you see, there really is no reason for me to stay."

She turned on her heel with the intention of walking back out the door, but was stopped short when the Doctor put a hand on her shoulder and roughly spun her around.

"You think that you're so clever, but you're not. I _will_ have your TARDIS, and I _will_ have your remaining regenerations."

"How?" she questioned, "What you're talking about is just a myth. It's only ever been done in legends. It can't be done. You know that! Every Time Lord knows that!"

"Don't insult me," he growled, tightening his grip on her shoulder painfully, "Dr. Aryna, foremost authority on Time Lord physiology, specifically regeneration cycles. If anyone would know how to do it, it would be you!"

"But I don't!" she protested.

"Quiet!" he snapped increasing the pressure on her shoulder even more, causing her to wince, "I know something that you don't. I know what happened to your counterpart. _I _killed her. Used a knife with a poisoned blade. Inhibited her regeneration," he laughed again and the sound made Aryna's stomach turn, "I left her for dead. The Master showed up just as I made off with her TARDIS. Somehow she managed to give her remaining regenerations to that fool. He's been trying to track me down ever since. He and that dim-witted husband of hers."

Aryna stiffened at the mention of Marcan and something flared in her eyes. The Doctor's eyes narrowed at this reaction and he pushed her towards a chair on the other side of the room. A final shove landed her in the dusty office chair and her wrists were quickly and efficiently taped tightly to the arms of the chair.

The Doctor glared at her with a dark expression, "So, you married him too," he spat, "Did you also refuse my counterpart? Was he not good enough for you? Arynalexiananoellaviere made me what I am. Did you make him?"

"No," she said quietly, "The Doctor is my friend. He's been a friend to me since we were children. _My_ Doctor is nothing like you. He left Gallifrey long ago. He's traveled for all of these lifetimes. But he isn't driven by the twisted ambition that fuels you! _My_ Doctor meddles, and the Time Lords condemned him for it on countless occasions. But he only ever meddled for the good of others. He's regarded by many as a hero. Stories are told of him, songs sung in his honor."

"He's weak," the Doctor sneered, "Too weak to take what he wants."

"No!" Aryna countered angrily, wrists straining against the tape, "He's not weak. Not like you," she leaned forward and her voice dropped in volume, "In my universe, even the Daleks fear him."

His expression changed suddenly and he laughed a short, humorless laugh, "You're just like _her_. Trying to make me feel guilty. Trying to manipulate me. It won't work you know. I'll have exactly what I want in the end. I am willing to let you live, though. Provided that you turn over your TARDIS and give me your remaining regenerations. You'll only have this life left to live out, but if you're careful then it could be a long one. I'll even drop you off wherever you like!" he grinned and laughed manically, "Maybe you could find the Marcan in this universe. I'm sure he'd take you in, since I murdered his wife 300 years ago. What a sweet couple you'd make."

"I can't do what you're asking. I've neither the ability nor the knowledge," she insisted.

"Of course you do, _Dr._ Aryna. You know more than anyone. The Master is living proof of it."

"I'm a doctor, yes, but my specialty is not Time Lord physiology, but TARDIS physiology," she explained.

"Rubbish," he interrupted, "There's no such thing."

"Yes there is! True, there is a technological component, but a TARDIS is largely organic. Dealing with only the technology is a lopsided approach. One must work with the technology and the living component equally. I understand your skepticism; I've been ridiculed by many for my research. But my work has merit. I've proved it over and over."

"You are obviously lying. No matter," he said with a dismissive wave, "I can take the knowledge that I need from your mind. And I have no reservations over killing you when I'm done. It's your choice. Cooperate with me and live a bit longer, or fight me and die. Either way, I win."

?????????????

Marcan waited. Impatience and worry fought to disrupt the calm veneer he wore. Time Lords were supposed to be coolly in complete control of themselves at all times. He could usually pull that off. The only time his emotions sparked like this was when Aryna was involved.

'She's not your Aryna. She's not your wife,' he reminded himself, hoping to regain some sort of perspective.

Alas, perspective was not to be had. Marcan still grieved the loss of his wife deeply. Having a glimpse of the woman she might have become had she not been murdered, brought the raw grief back to the surface. She too felt the death of her husband acutely. She had not been able to even bring herself to speak his name once in all of these centuries. He had seen that when their minds had connected earlier. It had certainly startled him. She was not his wife, so to find the same mental connection that he had once shared with his own Aryna had been quite unexpected. Reflecting on this an idea occurred to him, a way to make sure that she was still alright.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he very carefully nudged Aryna mentally. He tried to be as subtle as possible to avoid detection by the Doctor. It wouldn't help anyone if he was discovered now.

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	5. Trauma

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Doctor Who, or any official characters. I do own a rather lovely Doctor Who scarf that my Mum knit for me though...**

Aryna felt the gentle tug of Marcan's mind. Glancing at the Doctor, she saw that he was busy with something at a console on the other side of the room. Cautiously, so as not to attract the attention of the Doctor she sent just one word to Marc, '_Wait.'_

Eyeing the Doctor she redoubled her efforts to loosen the tape holding her wrists tight to the armrests of the chair. She worked as quietly as she could, but a barely audible exhale escaped her as she pulled at the tape with all of her strength.

Cold laughter rang out again, echoing off the stark grey walls, "You don't _really_ think that will do any good, do you?" he asked scornfully.

"You don't _really_ expect me not to try, do you?" she shot back, the frustration seeping into her tone.

"Of course not!" he answered, casually flicking a switch on the panel before walking over to take a seat in a second office chair next to hers.

He turned his chair so that they were facing opposite directions. She could sense him looking intently at her, but she refused to move her gaze slightly to the right to look at him. He waited for a moment, and then reached out. Taking her chin softly in his fingertips he turned her head to face him.

"I've always admired that about you, you know. The fact that you never give up," he remarked, his voice as gentle as the long fingers tracing the curve of her jawline.

Aryna didn't know what to say, and remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

The Doctor hesitated and then began, "I didn't think that they would send you. I thought that they would send _him_. So, I was prepared. I wanted to kill the Master, not you. Never you…"

His other hand brushed a stray lock of red hair off her face and glided over her cheekbone.

"I'm sorry, Aryna. I'm so sorry. I was so angry, and… scared, that I didn't even realize that it was you until it was too late. You have to believe me; I never meant to hurt you. I love you."

Aryna believed him to be sincere when he claimed that he had never meant to hurt this world's Aryna. He looked so… lonely. Lonely and guilty. Something about that look reminded her of the Doctor she knew. The thought was a frightening one, and she wondered if loneliness and guilt could ever drive her Doctor to this. Was it possible that there was a side to him as dark as the Master? A part of him that, under the right circumstances, could make him into _this_. The idea both terrified and saddened her. The thought of her Doctor, of her _friend_, becoming this brought her to the brink of tears.

The Doctor saw the sheen of tears gathering in Aryna's eyes.

He brushed away the single tear that escaped with his thumb and whispered, "Don't cry Lexia, please don't cry."

Aryna was taken aback at the mention of the nickname that was nearly as old as she was. No one had called her that since she was little more than a child. It surprised her that he would remember. What he did next caught her completely off guard.

Leaning closer, his lips touched hers. She didn't resist him, and so he kissed her again. Aryna forgot herself briefly in the moment. She was lonely too, and no one had kissed her like this since Marc had died. She felt the passion behind the Doctor's touch and was exhilarated by it. The next thing she sensed sobered her instantly, though. It was the jealousy, the selfishness, and his desire to control her that horrified her. Maybe he had loved his Aryna in a way, but this was not the way that either Aryna would have wanted to be loved. No wonder she had chosen Marcan.

Thinking quickly, while the Doctor was still distracted, Aryna turned her chair ever so slightly and bracing her feet on the base of his chair, she kicked away from him as hard as she could, thankful for the wheels on the office chair that she was attached to. The momentum carried her a fair distance across the smooth floor and she continued to push her chair closer to the closed door.

'_Marc!'_

?????????????

Hearing her mental cry, Marcan left the room her TARDIS was in and ran down the corridor towards the door she had disappeared through earlier.

'_I'm coming, Aryna! Hold on!'_

?????????????

At first the Doctor looked slightly dazed by the sudden break in physical contact, but that was quickly replaced with dark rage. He heard her call out to Marcan and in response, aimed his sonic screwdriver at the door. Sparks erupted from the control panel by the door and Aryna heard the sizzle of circuits burning out. She instinctively ducked her head and turned away from the miniature fireworks. She could hear Marc on the other side of the door, trying desperately to get in.

The Doctor wasted no time crossing the room to retrieve his errant prisoner. This time he took her chin roughly in his hand and relished the look of real fear that he saw in her eyes.

"You're just like her," he seethed, tightening his grasp, "Trying to manipulate me! You think that you're so much better than me. Fine then, you brought this on yourself!"

Sinking his hand into her short hair, he clenched his fist around the ginger strands and hauled her across the room. He took immense pleasure in her gasp of pain. Releasing her abruptly, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small knife. The six-inch blade was unusually thin, but appeared razor sharp. Light glinted off it, and terror gripped her as she recalled the fate of another Aryna. The Doctor reached towards her and deftly slit the tape binding her wrists to the chair. In one fluid movement, he pocketed the knife and yanked her to her feet. The long, slender fingers of one hand wrapped around her throat, compressing it just enough to weaken her. Her body heat seeped out into the cold metal wall that pressed against her back.

"I gave you a choice," he growled, "Remember that. But I'm not the sort of man to give second chances."

Cool fingertips pressed painfully into the sides of her white face, but that was not the worst of it. She struggled to brace the mental walls protecting her. Her mind raced, trying desperately to shield itself from the invading presence. The Doctor was relentless, methodically chipping away her defenses. Perspiration beaded her forehead as she vainly fought to keep him out. Finally, her walls collapsed under the pressure of his telepathic attack. She felt his searing rage tear through her thoughts.

"Nooooo!"

The physical sound lasted only seconds, but her mental screams continued as her mind was viciously ripped apart and battered. Memories sifted through and discarded carelessly. Thoughts and emotions, long buried, brought back to the surface with a rush. A lifetime of knowledge, searched through roughly. Centuries of experiences tossed about by a madman looking for answers that she didn't have.

The mental trauma was worse than the physical pain, though even that was nearly unbearable. She wondered momentarily how much damage would be done before he released her. She wondered if maybe he would just kill her.

_Give me one good reason not to…_

The Doctor's voice echoed inside her head as she slipped into darkness.

The Doctor caught her as she slid down the wall, unconscious. Laying her on the floor, he reached under the high neckline of her sweater and withdrew a chain with a simple key attached. Fingering the key, he grasped it tightly and snapped the chain in one swift tug.

He gazed at her intently for a long minute. He didn't know why he didn't just kill her. It had taken more effort to leave her alive, than it would have to kill her outright. But he didn't want to kill her. He didn't even leave her with any permanent damage. He couldn't think why. Mercy was not something that he did, not anymore.

He reflected on what he had seen in her. She really had only ever loved Marcan. He wondered if that had been true of his Lexia. He knew now that Aryna cared very deeply for her Doctor. That had been the true cause of her tears. She was afraid that perhaps her Doctor had the potential to become like him.

The Doctor thought for just a moment what it might be like to help people for a change. How different would his life have been if he had chosen a different path? He dismissed it immediately. He was what he was, and whether anyone wanted to admit it or not, his Aryna had a hand in making him what he was now.

She had been telling him the truth about one thing. She didn't know anything remarkable about regeneration. She truly couldn't extend his life for him. No matter. He still had her TARDIS key. He had his freedom. Hiding in the shadows by the door, he touched the manual override and pulled sharply on the lever.

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	6. Exit Strategy

**Disclaimer: Naturally, I do not own Doctor Who or the official characters. :-)**

_A/N: Sorry that this chapter is fairly short, but the next one is longer, and interesting enough to make up for this! I keep checking the traffic stats and find myself thrilled that I have readers! Thanks so much for reading my story!_

Marcan slapped the door control panel and was showered with sparks. Aryna's fear pressed against him, driving him to work quickly. Prying the panel from the wall, he tore at the wires, reconnecting them in an attempt to bypass the fused circuits.

Her silent shriek pierced his concentration and the circuit board slipped from his hands and clattered loudly against the wall. Quickly recovering his focus, he worked frantically on the door controls. He knew full well that he couldn't get the door open, but he had to keep trying anyway. He had to get to Aryna. When her mind suddenly went quiet, he was filled with dread, sure that she had shared his wife's fate.

The door slid open unexpectedly. Suspicion rose in him and he regarded the room cautiously. The sight of Aryna, pale and still on the floor made him forget caution as he ran to her side. He was so intent on Aryna that he failed to notice the tall, skinny figure leaving the shadows to run quietly down the corridor. Running straight for the red Police Box.

Dropping to his knees, Marcan gathered Aryna in his arms

_She has a pulse, that's good. And she's breathing. But she's not awake. What did he do to her?_

His thoughts were interrupted by an all too familiar churning sound. He sprinted back down the corridor just in time to see the TARDIS fade away. Frustration overtook him and he had the strong urge to kick something. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax and returned to Aryna. She still had not woken up yet. He pulled out a small disc and pressed the single button on it. A green light began to flash, indicating that his location was being transmitted.

?????????????

Alistair jumped to his feet when he noticed the blinking light on the console.

"What's that mean?"

"That's what we've been waiting for," was the Master's short reply, as he deftly worked the TARDIS controls. They soon materialized and both headed for the door.

"You," the Master fixed Alistair with a meaningful look, "Are to wait here… And don't touch anything," he added as an afterthought just before walking through the door.

Alistair turned to the console and slid a finger along the edge, "Don't touch anything!" he mocked, "Like I'm a kid!"

He grumbled and sputtered a bit more before seating himself sulkily in the corner of the console room. This was _not_ turning out to be a good day.

?????????????

Marcan was relieved to see the tall grandfather clock appearing before him. The front of the clock opened to reveal the Master. Looking quickly around the room and seeing no immediate danger, he turned his attention to the pair on the floor.

Kneeling down beside them he asked, "What happened?"

"The Doctor managed to steal her TARDIS. Hopefully that homing beacon is still active. I don't know what he did to her though. By the time I got past the door she was here, like this. Alive, but anything more than that…"

Putting a hand on his friend's shoulder the Master spoke again, "Do you have _any_ clues about what happened to Aryna?"

"I have my suspicions," Marcan replied darkly, "I could feel fear and immense pain radiating from her. When it stopped, I assumed the worst. Fortunately she's still breathing, but I can't wake her."

"Alright. Let's get her into the TARDIS and sort out what to do next from there."

Marcan nodded his agreement and carefully lifted Aryna's limp form. He carried her into the TARDIS, followed closely by the Master.

Once inside they were met with mild panic from Alistair.

"Aryna!" the young man gasped, "What's happened to her? Is she… dying?"

"I don't know!" Marc snapped at him, "I need to get her to the infirmary. Make yourself useful and open that door," he nodded to the door at the far end of the console room that led to the maze of corridors and rooms.

Alistair followed his instructions and moved to follow, but he was stopped short by the Master's voice.

"Alistair! I need you to keep an eye on something."

He reluctantly turned back to the console, throwing a final glance over his shoulder to the mysterious Time Lady he had traveled with for these past months.

"What do you want me to do?"

"See this red square on the screen?" the Master began, "This is Aryna's TARDIS. The Doctor managed to get his hands on it somehow. I have managed to track the signal so far, but Marcan needs my help with Aryna. You need to keep an eye on the screen. If the square stops, press _this _button here. If the signal disappears, turn this dial to… _here_. Either way, come and tell us at once!"

"OK," Alistair nodded, "Wait! How do I find you?"

"Nineteenth door on the left," the Master threw over his shoulder as he left Alistair once again.

Alistair sighed heavily. He was worried about Aryna, and wanted to stay with her. At the same time, he also realized that there was very little he could actually do to help her. What he could do was keep an eye on this screen. If this Doctor had her TARDIS, then they would have to come up with a way to get it back. That would be much easier if they knew _where_ to look.

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	7. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of the official characters, but should they ever be abandoned, I'd be more than happy to adopt them!**

When the Master appeared in the infirmary, Marcan had already laid Aryna on the stark white table, and was using a handheld med scanner to diagnose her injuries.

He looked up from the scanner and spoke, "She has some bruising and chafing on her wrists, probably from some sort of restraints. Very mild bruising on her face, some on her neck, but there is nothing else physically wrong with her."

"What about mentally?" the Master prompted.

Marcan hesitated before answering honestly, "I don't know. I thought it better to wait for you."

The Master nodded with understanding, "Of course."

It would be much easier for him to assess the damage objectively. It would still be a struggle to keep his own feelings in check, depending what he found, but he had a better chance of doing so than Marcan did.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he barely rested his fingers on the bruises discoloring her face. What he found did not surprise him, but it deeply disturbed him nonetheless. He saw the walls surrounding her mind, reduced to dust. Cautiously, he approached the perimeter where the walls once stood. Instead of the relative order that was typically found in the minds of his race, he discovered a swirl of half-memories, fragments of thoughts, all out of order. At first, he believed it to be irreversible, but then something caught his attention. Her mind was still a disorganized pile of rubble, but it was piecing things back together.

_Aryna?_

He didn't receive a clear reply from her, but he notice that things appeared to be falling into place more rapidly than before. He concluded with some astonishment that the Doctor had _not_ done any permanent damage, and that given a little more time, Aryna's mind would take care of itself. Breaking the contact he stepped back and took a deep breath.

"What is it?" Marcan asked, taking in the slightly paled face of his friend.

"He must have thought that she knew something…" he began, "But she couldn't tell him what he wanted to know, because she really _didn't_ know. That's my best guess anyway. So he looked through every corner of her mind trying to find it."

Marc pressed a fist to his mouth, willing himself to remain calm and rational, "So, she won't ever wake up then."

"I think she will, quite soon," Marcan looked at him with surprise, and the Master elaborated, "I barely brushed the surface, but I could see everything weaving itself back together again, rapidly. For some reason, he didn't destroy her mind. I can't imagine why, but I won't question it. I'm just glad that she'll be alright in time."

"She'll wake up soon?"

"I think so," he nodded, "I'm heading back to the console room to sort out where he's gone. Regardless of her condition, we _must_ get her TARDIS back and return the Doctor to Gallifrey. Then, we can close down the dimensional breach. We haven't much time to do it, so I can't wait until she's conscious again."

"I'll stay with her; just do what you have to."

"She might want you here when she wakes," the Master agreed, "I'll let you know when we've arrived."

Marcan merely nodded and turned his attention back to the woman fighting for her very sanity.

The Master looked back at him once more and noted how old his friend looked. This was his last regeneration, and if this continued, Marc might not live much longer. The thought of losing the friend who had been closer to him than his own brother was a depressing one, so the Master pushed it aside and turned his attention to the task at hand, finding out where the Doctor was going, and figuring out why.

?????????????

It only took a few minutes for Aryna's eyes to slowly open once she regained consciousness. She was in a room, and it was white. Relief flooded her when she realized that she was no longer in that awful grey room with the Doctor. The thought of the Doctor triggered something in her memory and the sheer panic pushed her into hysteria. Rebuilding her mind had taken significant amounts of energy, and left her body severely depleted. But even in her weakened state, the sudden shot of adrenaline in her bloodstream allowed her to jump off the table and run for the door.

She stumbled one stride short of it, and would have fallen if Marcan had not been there to catch her. Far from being comforting, the arms supporting her felt confining, threatening. She struggled weakly against him, swinging her fists blindly and sobbing the entire time.

"No… No, just let me go. Please, I don't know anything! Just let me go…"

Marcan had to keep his arms wrapped around her because without his support she would collapse. He tried to speak to her in quiet, soothing tones, masking the alarm that he felt.

"It's only me Aryna. Marcan, remember? You're safe now. Let me help you. We can go to the library, it's the next room, so we don't have to go far. Would that be better?"

Still trying to quiet her sobs, she could only manage to nod.

"Alright, good, we'll go to the library. Do you think that you can walk? It's not far."

"I… I don't…know, don't know," she stuttered with a shaky voice.

"That's alright. I can carry you there. I'm going to pick you up now, but I won't hurt you. I promise I won't."

He waited for a reply and when she nodded again, he carefully lifted her into his arms and took her out into the corridor and through the next door into the library. He gingerly set her down in one of the plush chairs and moved to sit in the identical one across from her.

She said nothing for a very long time. Most humans would have sought to fill the silence by asking if she was OK, but Marc knew better. One who had been through what she had, was far from OK. This sort of mental assault was extremely rare, almost unheard of on Gallifrey during his lifetime. There were stories though, from ancient times. Stories of violence in every form. The mighty Time Lords had quite the checkered past to be honest, but that was long ago, and little remained from that time. If he recalled his history correctly, most victims of such brutal mental assault never survived the attack. He speculated that it was likely because anyone that intent on shredding someone's mind was not particularly concerned with sparing their life. Why had the Doctor taken such great care to leave her free of any permanent injury? It just didn't make sense.

"Where is he?" Aryna finally broke the silence.

Marc didn't need to ask who she was referring to, "He stole your TARDIS. I don't know how, it was locked when I left it. But the homing beacon is still active. The Master is tracking him now. We'll find him."

Aryna's hand when to her neck, and she felt vainly for the key that she always wore, "He took mine. He knew where to find my key because of…" she swallowed hard and continued, "Because he was in my head."

Reaching out tentatively, he took one of Aryna's hands in his and suggested, "I think you need to rest. The Master and I can take care of the Doctor. Why don't I find a room for you? Sleep might do you some good."

She appeared to be considering it for a moment, "No," she answered decisively, "This ends now."

She stood to her feet and continued, "I'm putting an end to it. Someone has to stop him. _I _will stop him."

"Aryna," he sighed, "When will you learn that you can't handle him on your own? You have the same blind arrogance as she did when it comes to him."

"Don't lecture me. I've dealt with far worse than one insane Time Lord. You have no idea who I am."

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow and continued on, "You're behaving like a naïve little girl who thinks that she can take on the entire universe singlehandedly."

"I am over 800 years old! Do _not_ compare me to an inexperienced child."

Rising from the comfortable chair he towered over her and replied calmly, "Then don't act like one."

The Master arrived on the scene with a mug of hot tea just as Marcan turned his back on the angry Time Lady and walked out.

Turning to Aryna he asked, "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

Ignoring the question she spoke briskly, "Marcan said that you're tracking my TARDIS. Where is he?"

He passed the steaming mug to her and settled into a chair, "I thought that you might like a cup of tea."

Irritated by his avoidance of her question, she took a sip of the hot tea before setting it down on a small end table nearby.

Crossing her arms she tried again, "I don't take kindly to my TARDIS being stolen. I intend to get it back, immediately. Where is he?"

The Master leaned back slightly, "Are you sure it's really your ship that you're after?"

"What does _that_ mean?"

"You keep asking where _he_ is. If it's your TARDIS that concerns you, why do you insist on knowing where the Doctor is?"

"Because the _Doctor_ has my TARDIS!"

"Why don't you sit down and finish your tea?" he suggested calmly.

"I don't have time for this," she strode impatiently towards the door, but was surprised by the Master's quick movements.

Blocking her path he spoke sharply, "Make time."

Dropping to a chair in a huff, she sat silently seething. The Master once again settled into his chair. Neither said anything for several minutes, but she finally broke the silence.

"I don't know what the two of you want from me. Do you want me to say that I'm angry? Fine! I'm _angry_! That doesn't change the fact that I need to get my TARDIS back so that we can close the breech between dimensions. We're running out of time here. And the two of you want me to put my feet up and… and _nap_!" she nearly managed to keep the frustration out of her voice, nearly.

"When you catch up with the Doctor, what then?" he asked quietly.

Her expression darkened, "Someone has to stop him."

"I see," he nodded, "You want him to pay for what he's done."

"You're the one who told me that he was tried and sentenced to death by the Time Lords."

"Are you to be his executioner?"

"Why not?" a note of defensiveness crept into the question, "Why shouldn't justice occasionally be poetic?"

"This isn't your universe," the Master reminded her, "You have no authority in the situation. It's none of your concern, Aryna."

"_He_ made it my concern!"

"You're not in the proper frame of mind to face him. You're out for revenge. You're no good to anyone like this."

"Stop it!" she snapped.

He laughed, "What's wrong Lady Aryna? Don't like what you see in the mirror?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she bit her tongue to keep from losing her temper.

"You're as sanctimonious as the rest of the Time Lords aren't you? But Lady Aryna has a bit of a secret. She's not quite as unaffectedly in control as she would like everyone to believe," leaning forward he whispered, "She has a dark side."

"Don't push me," she warned.

"Why not?" at this point he stood and began pacing slowly about the room, "What will you do to stop me? Kill me? Are you planning to kill me, Aryna? You're going to kill the Doctor, what's one more Time Lord murdered in the scheme of things?" pausing behind her chair, his voice dropped a notch, "Who would have guessed the lust for blood that Lady Aryna has been hiding all of these years?"

Rising from the chair she yelled, "Enough!"

"Enough? On no, my dear, I'm just getting started. You can't stop me," he taunted.

Temper flaring out of control she threw a punch and landed her fist solidly on the Master's jaw. He took a slight step back, but appeared indifferent. Determined to wipe the smirk off his face, she swung again. But, the Master had quick reflexes, and he caught the small fist in one hand before it made contact.

Maintaining a firm grip on her hand he spoke coolly, "That will be quite enough of that, my dear. I'm willing to take one punch for your benefit, but I draw the line at two."

Stumbling backwards, she sat down hard on the closest piece of furniture. Reason prevailed, and she took a hard look at herself. The Master was right, she _didn't_ like what she saw. She felt her face flush crimson, truly ashamed of her behavior, of her motives. After all, what was the difference between the Doctor in her world, and the one she had met here? Each of them had the capacity for evil; the difference was in what actions they _chose_ to take.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, not daring to look him in the eye, "I should never have… I don't… You're right… about me. And I'm sorry."

"Oh Aryna," he took the place next to her on the settee, "I just wanted you to realized that… well, that this isn't _you_. I understand that the Aryna we knew was a different person, but I think that you're very much like her. Of course you're angry; you have every right to be! It's what actions you take because of that anger that makes the difference. There have been plenty of times when I've wanted to kill him myself, believe me! But I can't, and neither can you."

"I know," she moaned, covering her face with her hands, "What's come over me? I'm a _Time Lady_! I'm supposed to be in control of myself, not flying off the handle and acting irrationally!"

"Now you sound like one of them," he laughed, "I haven't heard you spouting any of that nonsense for centuries!"

"Maybe they were right," she replied grimly.

"Rubbish," he said decisively, "What you've just been through is more terrible than any of us can imagine. By some miracle, your mind was able to piece itself back together very quickly! But, it still will take time for everything to even back out. You're angry, and having this sort of reaction to that anger is understandable. Give yourself some time. Besides," he slipped an arm around her shoulders, "We all need someone to stop us from going too far sometimes."

"Yeah."

"I have to get back to the console room. Are you coming along for the ride?"

"Give me a few minutes. I think I have another apology to make," she said thoughtfully.

The Master hesitated, and then began, "I'm not saying this as an excuse for him; he should have been a bit more objective. The thing is, Marc, since seeing you, doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Losing you, and then the Time War soon after… it was difficult for him. You are remarkable, and that serves as a reminder of what he's lost."

"Remarkable?" she laughed bitterly, "More likely temperamental! This regeneration is… unpredictable. For the first time, I'm not quite comfortable in my own skin…" she shook her head, "I digress, what I wanted to say, is that it's hard for me too. I see him, and it's like he's back. I know that my Marc is gone, but seeing him… makes it harder to remember that."

"You'll be home soon, I promise. I'll be in the console room whenever you're ready. We could use your help."

He left her alone in the library, and Aryna didn't know whether to smile or to cry. He had meant it to comfort her, promising to get her home. But she wasn't sure that she wanted to go home…

?????????????


	8. A Bit of Sense

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who and the official characters do not belong to me. I just borrow them for a bit. ;-) In no way do I profit from this.**

_A/N: I try to post the new chapter in the morning, but a power outage delayed this one a bit. ;-) A big thanks to the readers who added me to their favorite story list, you know who you are!_

Marcan stalked into the console room and immediately began to pace around the center console, flicking switches and pushing buttons in an attempt to contain his frustration.

Alistair watched him silently for a minute before asking, "How's Aryna?"

"Stubborn and stupid," Marcan replied with obvious irritation.

Alistair shrugged, "Stubborn is par for the course, mate. And I suppose that some would label her impulsiveness as stupidity, though, it's not really a fair assessment."

"What do you know?" he snapped at Alistair.

"Maybe I have a bit more perspective than you do, Mr. Time Lord. I get that this is completely crazy, seeing her, but it's rough on her too. Do you have any idea how much she misses her husband? She could never bring herself to even tell me his name! All I knew was that he had been killed by the Daleks a long time ago. That broke her heart. She never said as much, but it was clear enough when she saw you. I have _never_ seen her that shaken in all of the time that I've traveled with her. She's faced down beings that I couldn't have even imagined, and never batted an eyelash. Yet the sight of you… it was more than she could handle."

"I can't reconcile it any better than she can, Alistair! Perhaps you can be a bit more objective, but that's easy to be when you aren't in the middle of the situation. I've had to deal with things long buried since she arrived."

Marcan was obviously frustrated and angry, though he tried to mask it. Alistair couldn't really blame him. Still, Marcan and Aryna needed to sort out things between them quickly so that she and Alistair could get back where they belonged. Trying to figure out what he could say to facilitate that, Alistair vocalized the first thing that popped into his head.

"Just snog her already!"

"What?!" Marcan asked incredulously.

"My Dad always said that when he and Mum were having an argument, the best way to end it was to kiss her and apologize. Then they could sit down and work out whatever it was that they were fighting about," Alistair shrugged again, "It worked for them! Married 32 years, they were!"

"Yes, but you can't begin to compare human relationships to…"

"Get over yourselves!" Alistair interrupted, "You high and mighty Time Lords are a bit more _human_ than you care to admit! You may be older than I am, and a lot smarter than I am, but you still have feelings same as I do. And they have a LOT to do with any relationship."

"We don't _have_ a relationship."

"Great!" Alistair said brightly, "That makes things much less complicated. Now you can both start acting like adults and work this out with very little fuss."

Marcan left the control room without another word. Alistair grinned and chuckled. None of them would ever admit that he, a mere human, had a valid point. Still, these cranky old Time Lords occasionally needed a bit of a shove in the right direction. Alistair was happy to provide it.

?????????????

Marcan had met the Master halfway between the control room and the library, so he knew that Aryna was still there. She had just stood to leave when he entered the room.

"He makes a bit of sense," Marcan began, "That kid you travel with."

Aryna smiled, "Rather annoying when he does, isn't it?"

"I suppose that when you get to our age, it's hard to take advice. From anyone."

"Yeah," she looked away for a moment and then turned back and continued, "I'm sorry… for losing my temper. You're right; I can't handle him on my own, obviously. It will take all of us to sort this one out. You were right about me needing a rest too, but I'm afraid we don't have the time. If we don't fix this soon…" she shrugged helplessly.

"I realize that. I'm here to apologize too. What you've been through… I should have handled things differently. What I said…"

"Was true," she interrupted, "And maybe I needed to hear it."

"You've mellowed," he remarked with a half-smile.

"Quite a bit! It's a good thing too considering how close to the surface my temper is this time around."

"Oh, I don't know, I sort of like this fiery ginger."

"Now you're making fun!" she laughed, then sobered quickly, "I just don't know what to do with you Marc. You're not him, but you _feel_ like him. It… confuses me."

Taking her hand in his, he replied, "I know _exactly_ what you mean. Alistair actually suggested that I snog you."

Aryna rolled her eyes, "That's such a human response."

Marcan raised a shoulder, "I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't considered it. In the end, what would be the point? You're going home soon."

"I want to stay," she said softly, "I want to stay here with you more than anything."

He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her, "You can't."

"I know. But that won't stop me from _wanting_ to."

"Time must unfold the way that it was meant to. We're supposed to be guardians of that. Watching, seeing that none of what must be is changed. But never in my life have I been so tempted to ignore all of that for my own reasons."

Aryna pressed her cheek to his chest, tightening her arms around him. She could hear the twin heartbeats. Sometimes she thought that having two hearts was a curse. It meant that there were two hearts that could be broken. Since she had woken up, she had shrouded herself in an iron curtain, determined that no one else would touch her. Slowly, she relaxed the mental walls and tentatively reached out.

_You're only making it harder on yourself,_ he observed.

_No. I'm simply making sure that I don't have any regrets. If I don't do this, then I'll regret it later. I just want one moment… something to make all of this worth it._

_All right, if you're sure._

_I am._

Thoughts and memories blended together, two entire lifetimes swirling around them. They were both older now, and had both had the experience of losing the one who they couldn't bear to be without. Both had survived, but not without scars. Aryna was still feeling fragile from her encounter with the Doctor, but Marc's familiar presence in her mind soothed and calmed her. His strength replenished her own.

At last, Marc spoke, "We should get back to the console room."

With one final squeeze, Aryan stepped back, "I'm ready now."

?????????????

"He's moving again! And… oh no… I think he's headed for Gallifrey," the Master noted grimly.

"Why Gallifrey?" Marc puzzled, "He knows what awaits him there."

"Revenge?" Aryna ventured.

"He'd have to be mad," the Master scoffed.

"He _is_ mad," Aryna pointed out.

"Still," Marcan began, "What could he possibly do on Gallifrey by himself?"

"He has an accomplice," Alistair stated.

All three Time Lords looked suddenly at him. The Master was the first to find his voice.

"_What_ did you say?"

Alistair shrugged carelessly, "It makes sense. How did he manage to kill your entire High Council and escape without inside help? How did he hide out in that abandoned outpost for so long without you tracking him down? How did he _get_ there? He must have outside help."

"Alistair," Aryna said slowly, "You're a genius! Don't you see?" she turned back to the two Time Lords, "He's right! The Doctor is insane, brilliant, but utterly insane! He _must_ have had someone on the inside helping him in order to pull off all that he did."

"That means…" Marc began hesitantly.

"It means that another Time Lord has been aiding him," the Master finished for him, "Likely a rather high ranking one."

"We have to find out who it is," Marcan insisted.

"We'll have to follow him to Gallifrey," Aryna concluded.

"I won't exactly be welcome there," the Master remarked bitterly.

"Neither will I," Marcan pointed out, "But we have little choice."

Aryna had stepped back from the console and her face had paled just slightly. Marcan and the Master were deep in conversation, and neither had noticed. Alistair stood beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Aryna?"

She started slightly and gave him a tiny smile, "I'm alright, Alistair. It's just… I haven't seen Gallifrey since the Time War. I've wanted to see it so many times since then, but now…" she gave him another smile, "I'll be fine. We _have_ to go."

Alistair nodded and gave her shoulder a final squeeze before they both moved back to the console.

"He's landed," the Master announced, "Looks like… he's in the mountains."

"How soon can we catch up?" Aryna asked.

"Now that I have the coordinates, we can materialize… now."

?????????????


	9. Accomplice

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or the official characters. **

The orange sky was as vivid as she remembered. The crisp mountain air filled her lungs. It was all the way that she pictured it in her memory a thousand times since the day that she learned the fate of her home. Regret knifed through her for just a few seconds. She mentally shook herself and refocused her attention. She wasn't here to reminisce; they were all here to do a job. They had to turn the Doctor over to the Chancellery Guard and discover the identity of the other traitor at work in the Citadel.

They had materialized out of sight of the Doctor. It wasn't difficult to do in the mountains. Alistair had been sternly warned by each of them to, "Stay close!" and "Keep _quiet_, boy," and to "Do exactly as you are told!" If he thought that one overbearing ancient and arrogant alien was difficult to deal with, then he was finding three of them beyond impossible. Still, he did as they asked, well as they _demanded_.

Finding a point where they could observe without being spotted, they settled in to wait. A robed Time Lord walked closer to Aryna's TARDIS, and when he was within eight meters the doors opened and the Doctor appeared. Aryna had to bite her lip to keep from hurtling rather objectionable names at him. She didn't recognize the Time Lord he was meeting with, but it was clear from the exchanged glances that the Master and Marcan did.

"Doctor," he greeted with some disdain.

"Don't be so self-righteous," the Doctor sneered, "You're just like me whether you care to admit it or not."

"I am _nothing_ like you. You, Doctor, are a common criminal. The most evil Time Lord that Gallifrey has ever seen. What I do, I do for…"

"Spare me," the Doctor interrupted with a raised hand, "You can spout that nonsense of it being for the good of Gallifrey all you want, but I know the truth. You've always been ambitious, Borusa. Even as your student at the Academy I could see it. Your reasons may differ somewhat from mine, but make no mistake, we are both motivated by our own self-interests."

"I refuse to argue with the likes of _you_," Borusa replied haughtily, "I am here for a reason. Were you successful?"

"Only partially. I have her TARDIS, but she did not possess the knowledge we had hoped."

"Are you _sure_ of that? The Aryna from our world did. Is it possible that she hid it from you?"

"No," the Doctor answered swiftly, "I went through every thought that she'd ever had. Apparently, her research differs significantly from that of our Aryna."

"That is truly disappointing," Borusa sighed, "But we still have other avenues to pursue. I am close to one that may yet yield results, but I require your assistance."

"At your service, Cardinal," the Doctor offered mockingly.

"I believe that I've located the Black Scrolls of Rassilon."

"And?"

"You must procure them for me," stated Borusa simply.

"Why don't you just steal them yourself?"

"_I_ must maintain my position if our plans are to come to fruition. In addition, forced entry is more your specialty than mine."

"I'm expendable, is that it?" the Doctor laughed wickedly.

"Not at all. You are the only one capable of bringing the Black Scrolls to me."

"Where are they?"

"There is a hidden vault underneath the Citadel library. Few know of its existence. It is rumored that it has remained lock and hidden since the time of Rassilon himself. I have the only known map of its exact location."

"You want me to infiltrate the Citadel?" the Doctor asked incredulously, "I've yet to receive the Presidential pardon that you promised me all of those years ago. I'm not foolish enough to risk my own life simply to satisfy your curiosity."

Borusa pressed a small disc into the Doctors hand, "Oh yes you will. This is not about mere curiosity, but about both your life and mine. Neither of us has much time left. You want this knowledge just as much as I do. As for your pardon, leave that to me. I will be Lord President soon enough. Plans have already been set in motion, and by the time you come to me with the scrolls, Gallifrey will once again be in search of a new President. I have no opposition this time. My place is assured."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms, "Fine. I'll do your digging for you Borusa, but I trust you will keep in mind that you have even more to lose than I do," he leaned closer to the visibly angry Cardinal, "Just remember that should I be apprehended by the Chancellery Guard."

With that, the Doctor turned on his heel and re-entered Aryna's TARDIS, closing the door firmly. Borusa was seething. He found it impossibly insulting of the Doctor to threaten him and then leave. Courtesy was something that the Doctor only practiced mockingly. It ate away Borusa that he was forced to ally himself with his former student. In fact, he would rather not admit that he had ever even been acquainted with the criminal. He struggled to control his temper and decided that it would be best for him to return to the Citadel. He had given the Doctor the information that he needed to procure the black scrolls. There was no point in associating further with him for the time being.

?????????????

The four spies made their way back to the Master's TARDIS. Once safely inside, the silence finally broke.

"Borusa!" Marcan exclaimed incredulously, "Why would he betray his own people? This is outrageous! The High Council will have him executed along with the Doctor!"

"Will they?" the Master quirked an eyebrow.

"Of course they will!"

"Based on what, Marc?" Aryna inquired, "Our word? The two of you are persona non grata on Gallifrey, Alistair's an outsider, and I'm dead," she paused to allow her words to sink in, "Now tell me, who exactly will believe us when we say that the Cardinal of the High Council of Time Lords is conspiring with the Doctor?"

Marcan leaned back against the wall of the console room and rubbed his forehead in frustration, "We can't stand back and do _nothing_."

"No one's suggesting that," the Master assured him, walking over to the console he pulled up something on a screen and continued, "But we need more conclusive evidence to convince the Time Lords. And we _must_ see to it that the Doctor and Borusa never get their hands on the Black Scrolls."

"Excuse me," Alistair interrupted, "What exactly _are_ these Black Scrolls of Rasigon?"

The Master rolled his eyes, exasperated by the ignorance of the human, and Aryna stepped in to answer.

"Rassilon, actually. Rassilon was a founder of the current Time Lord Society. We owe our ability to travel through time to Rassilon and Omega. Rassilon accomplished and set into motion many great things, but he was also a product of his time," she glanced at Marc and the Master before continuing, "Our history is a bit more checkered than most Time Lords would care to admit. There was a period of great brutality before many of Rassilon's reforms were instituted. He was brilliant, but he was perhaps too brilliant. There is power that no one should ever wield. It's rumored that Rassilon held the knowledge to great power, and many incredible things that are possible for a Time Lord, if they possess the same knowledge that he did."

"I take it that's a bad thing?"

"Yes, Alistair, as I said before, there is certain power that none should possess. The Black Scrolls contain knowledge of that kind of power."

"The Doctor can never be allowed to have it," Marc said decisively.

"_No one_ can," Aryna countered.

The Master hesitated, "But, it _is_ part of our history. Surely you don't mean to destroy the Scrolls?"

"I don't just intend to," she replied firmly, "I _will_."

"The Master has a valid point, Aryna. Should we really destroy a piece of our heritage? Do we have the right to?"

"Yes," she insisted, "We can't allow it to fall into anyone's hands. Some things are better forgotten. If left intact, another ambitious Time Lord will seek to use them. The results… they could be disastrous. You can't risk that."

"Gallifrey has enough troubles without adding to them," Marcan sighed, "You're probably right. We have to make certain that the Scrolls will never be used… by anyone."

Nodding slightly the Master agreed, "Alright. But first, we have to find them…"

"Under the Citadel Library?" Aryna spoke slowly, moving closer to the screen the Master was studying intently.

"Yes, and it's not on the official schematics, but…" he looked meaningfully at Aryna and trailed off.

"What?"

"When we were students, Aryna and I discovered something that wasn't on the schematics. We never told anyone what we had found, not even the Doctor."

"I remember," she said softly, "It was a long time ago, but I remember. Can you find it?"

"I think so," he turned back to the console and began extrapolating coordinates from his memory of the layout, "But I want you to double-check my numbers when I'm done. Just to be certain."

Marcan pushed away from the wall of the console room and walked towards them, "Do the two of you know where this vault is?"

"Possibly. The Master and I stumbled across a series of forgotten passageways beneath part of the Citadel. But we were just children then. It's been a long time, and _I'd_ almost forgotten about them. It could be that down there is the vault that the Doctor's headed for."

"You're saying that the same even took place in both our universe and yours?" he questioned.

"Apparently so. We already know that some things are similar between our worlds, while others are… quite different."

"I think I have the coordinates," the Master interrupted, "See what you think."

He stepped back from the console to allow Aryna to study the screen. She looked over everything carefully, but quickly, mindful that they were quite short on time. Straightening she gave her answer.

"It looks right to me, but we can't be sure until we try."

"So what happens if you're wrong?" Alistair asked uneasily, "Could we wind up trapped underground?"

The Master laughed, sending chills down her spine, "You don't want to know, boy. Believe me, you _don't_ want to know."

With that he pulled a lever and the TARDIS dematerialized. Aryna held her breath, hoping that they weren't mistaken.

?????????????


	10. Tiptoeing About

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or the official characters. If I did, we'd have a new episode every week for the entire year. ;-)**

"We've landed," Marcan stated simply.

Aryna started breathing again, and Alistair cracked one eye open.

"We're still alive!" the human observed excitedly.

"Obviously," the Master said dryly.

"But are we in the right place?" Aryna voiced the question on all of their minds.

"Well, we _are_ in some kind of room, and it _is_ below the Citadel. Quite close to the Library actually," the Master answered while consulting his console readouts.

"Only one way to find out," Aryna threw over her shoulder as she breezed past the others towards the doors.

Before anyone had the chance to stop her, she flung them open and walked out with her shoulders squared, and a determined expression on her face.

"Aren't you coming?" Alistair asked the two Time Lords before following Aryna.

Marcan and the Master met each other's gaze.

"She has her confidence back," the Master pointed out.

"But is that a good thing?" was Marcan's reply.

The Master shrugged, and the two of them left the TARDIS with a bit more caution then the ginger Time Lady had.

Alistair had pulled a small torch out of his backpack, and was examining some writing on a wall panel. The blue glow from the tip of Aryna's sonic screwdriver cast an eerie light as she scanned the walls, looking for any sort of doorway. The Master approached her.

"A greater degree of care on your behalf might be in order," he spoke quietly, but his voice still echoed softly off the walls of the abandoned caverns.

"We don't have time. We can't tiptoe about, peeking around every corner before making a move," she whispered, "Besides, the Doctor is the only one we're likely to find down here for a while, and there are four of us."

"Three," he corrected with irritation.

"Don't discount Alistair," she warned, "He may only be a human, but you would be surprised how much of an asset he can be when given the chance. If you're not careful, that Time Lord snobbery of yours will start to show."

"I am not a snob," he hissed.

"This _really_ isn't the time or place," Marc reminded them.

"True enough," she agreed, continuing her search.

"Aryna!" Alistair called softly from the other side of the hall, "I think I've found something."

Jogging up to the panel he was examining she spoke, "What is it Alistair?"

"Do you remember that ancient dialect you showed me once? The one you said that very few Gallifreyans could read anymore?"

"Yes, Old High Gallifreyan, what about it?"

"If I'm not mistaken, that's what this is!" he whispered excitedly, gesturing with the beam of light from his torch.

She scrutinized the markings more closely, reaching out to wipe away millennia of dust and grime. She turned to address the two Time Lords.

"He's right. That would be consistent with the age of the Scrolls," turning back to the wall she squinted, "I can translate it, but that will take time."

"How did he even recognize it for what it was?" the Master asked incredulously.

Aryna cast a smile of almost maternal pride toward Alistair, "Because he's brilliant."

"We need to get this translated _now_," Marc urged.

"It will go faster with your help," she remarked.

"Alistair and I will explore a bit further while the two of you work on that," the Master decided and gestured to Alistair, "Come on, let's see what else you can uncover."

Aryna and Marcan worked quietly and efficiently.

"So it wasn't hidden by Rassilon," she mused, "But by followers of Omega. I wonder if this is what set Hedin on his quest to bring Omega back all those years ago…"

"Hedin was killed by the Master. He was never on any sort of 'quest' to bring Omega back. That would be utter madness," was Marcan's reply.

Aryna sighed, "I _really_ have got to be more careful about what I say."

"Does that mean that someone will actually try it? Do you think a Time Lord will somehow attempt to bring Omega back from the anti-matter universe? That would be catastrophic!"

"Look," Aryna interrupted, "I don't know what will happen in your future any more than you do. I only know what has happened in my past. Well, not exactly _my_ past, but the Doctor did tell me the whole story…"

"Yes, yes, fine," Marcan cut in, "We don't have time to swap stories. We're getting sidetracked. I think we have this figured out, though."

"So, what's it say?" Alistair asked from behind them.

Aryna started slightly. She hadn't heard them walk up. She covered her surprise smoothly and answered the question.

"Apparently, it wasn't Rassilon who left this vault hidden. It was followers of Omega."

"That's interesting," the Master agreed, "But does it tell us _where_ the vault is?"

Marcan tapped the large sheet of metal, "Behind the panel."

Aryna produced her sonic screwdriver with a flourish and moved it along the edges. The soft blue light and quiet whirring told Alistair that the screwdriver was working, but still, nothing happened.

"Could it be somewhere else?" he asked her.

"No, this is definitely it, but it's sealed really, REALLY well," she explained, frowning at the ineffectiveness of her favorite gadget.

"Here, let me," the Master nudged her aside and flicked on a similar device, except his emitted a distinctly red glow, and produced sparks from the edges of the metal panel.

Aryna's jaw dropped and the Master smirked when he caught her expression.

"Laser screwdriver," he explained with a laugh, "Who'd have sonic?"

"Ohhhh, that is creepy. Really, that is seriously creepy," she backed away slightly, eyeing the enigmatic Time Lord.

The Master grinned his maniacal grin and laughed, making Aryna's blood run cold.

She didn't know what was harder to handle, an evil Doctor who didn't always seem completely evil, or a not evil Master, who still had that streak of insanity to him. Not to mention another Marcan who felt all _too_ familiar… Aryna shook her head to clear her thoughts, and refocused on the task at hand. There would be plenty of time for reflection later, _after_ they had averted this current crisis.

The edge of the panel fizzled and sparked and slid open. The Master leaned into the opening, taking a look around.

"It _can't_ be that easy. It's _never_ that easy."

Marcan walked into the vault, "Apparently, this time it is."

"Let's not question our good fortune," Aryna suggested as she too walked through the opening, "We're entitled to a bit of luck now and again, surely!"

"I think so," the Master agreed as he followed them, "But the universe doesn't."

Alistair rolled his eyes and tried to keep pace with the others, "You're all paranoid. The universe is _not_ out to get you…"

At that moment, the panel slid shut behind them. All four turned towards the metallic slam.

The Master cleared his throat, "You were saying?"

"I rescind my earlier comment," Alistair answered with chagrin.

"Well, at least we're _in_," Aryna pointed out.

"Yes, but the question is, will we be able to get _out_?" the Master observed.

"We can deal with that later. First things first. Let's find what we came for and then figure out an exit strategy," Marcan directed calmly.

Aryna pulled a torch out of her pocket that closely resembled the one Alistair carried. Clicking it on, she shined the light around the room.

"We'll find it faster if we split up."

"I'll take Alistair," the Master decided.

"Yell if you find anything," Aryna said absently as she set to work sifting through the contents of the room.

"This room isn't as big as I'd expected, but it could take more time than we have to find the Black Scrolls," Marcan remarked.

"It would help if we knew what we were looking for," Aryna sighed, "Do you know what they look like?"

Marc shook his head, "No. Have you ever seen them?"

"Not precisely," she admitted, "Although the Doctor did. He mentioned that they were in a small chest. Rather ornate. But there's no reason to think that they would be in a similar box here."

"Then you have some idea what's in the Scrolls."

"No, I really don't. Neither did the Doctor. They were burned before he had a look at them. Just as well," she shrugged, "The Time Lord who had found them used the knowledge for his own ends. It turned out to be his undoing."

"Who found them on your Gallifrey?"

Aryna hesitated, "I don't suppose it would do any harm to tell you. It was Borusa."

"The Cardinal on your world was searching for them too?" a note of amazement crept into his voice at the similarities between their universes.

"Not the Cardinal," Aryna corrected, "Lord President."

Marcan opened another box and sifted through the contents, "So he _did_ become president."

"On my world, yes. But as I said before, his ambitions brought about his end."

"I can see why you're so insistent about destroying the Scrolls," Marcan said thoughtfully.

"That knowledge corrupted a former mentor of mine beyond help. If the situation on your Gallifrey is as fragile as I guess it to be, then something like this could tear it apart."

"How did you get to be this wise?"

"I've lived for over eight-hundred years, Marc. Anyone would have learned something by now. And I wouldn't exactly classify myself as _wise._"

"You've got this crazy temper, like nothing I've ever seen before, at least not in you. But at the same time, you have all of this experience, and you can assess a situation quickly and sort out what to do about it. It's…" he searched for the right word, "Contradictory."

"Yeah, the wise old Time Lady with the temper of a teenager," she replied sourly, "I thought that as I regenerated I might mellow a bit more than I have."

"It may not seem it at times, but you _have_ mellowed considerably," he assured her.

"Marcan," she turned serious, "I think I've found them."

He looked over her shoulder at the plain wooden box she had opened. The ebony-colored rolls of paper were unmistakable.

"Different box," she noted, "But the Scrolls are just as he described them to me."

"I'll go find the Master and Alistair. Wait here for us."

Marcan navigated the maze of shelves and boxes in search of the rest of their group. Aryna couldn't take her eyes from the Black Scrolls. She didn't dare touch them, let alone read any of them, but neither could she look away. They had played a part in the downfall of Borusa on her Gallifrey. Not to mention the deaths of others caused by his actions. The tale her Doctor had told was not a pretty one. And the reminder of it was saddening. A chilling voice broke her reflections.

"Well now, I knew that if I was patient, you would find them for me."


	11. Confrontations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of the official characters. I do not profit in any way from the use of them in my story**.

The voice was unmistakable and hearing it nearly stopped both of her hearts. Panic welled up, but she did her best to tamp it down and turn to him calmly.

"Doctor," she inclined her head slightly in greeting, "I was under the impression that we were alone in here."

"You were mistaken. Who do you think was responsible for the panel sliding shut and sealing you in?"

"I assume that you have an alternate exit located," it was more of a statement than a question.

The Doctor smiled, "Wouldn't you just love know. Now, if you'll hand over that box right there, I'll be on my way."

She snapped the lid shut and gripped the small box firmly, "No."

"Come now," he urged, leveling a sidearm at her that she recognized as the model that the Chancellery guard favored about the time that she had left Gallifrey. It was outdated, but could still be deadly.

She tilted her chin defiantly and refused to budge.

"I let you live once already, Lady Aryna. Don't test my generosity."

"You could have killed me then, in fact, it took more effort for you _not_ to kill me. I don't think you'll do it now," she insisted quietly.

"You forget, I've already killed you once before," he reminded her lightly.

"That was unintentional. You thought that they would send the Master. But she came instead. She came because she cared about you, because you were her friend once."

"Rubbish. If she _cared_ about me, she wouldn't have tried to take me back to Gallifrey. I'm under the death sentence, remember?" he bit back sharply, "Now hand over the Scrolls."

"I won't. I've already lived to see one Time Lord destroyed by them. I won't let it happen again."

"You don't have a choice," he growled.

"I warn you, I'm not here alone," she cautioned.

"I don't care! I'm the only who's armed. What does that do to the odds, eh? Lady Aryna?" he addressed her mockingly.

"Think about this. About what you're doing. Borusa's only using you to satisfy his own ambitions…"

"I know that," he interrupted impatiently, "But I'm using him as well!"

"You could help us. Help us produce evidence against him. That might convince the Time Lords to be lenient," she tried to persuade him.

He leaned closer, "Do you _really_ think that I'm that stupid?"

"Aryna…" Marc rounded the corner with the Master close behind him, but his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the other Time Lord, "Doctor!"

"Marcan!" the Doctor gave a slight bow, "A pleasure to see you again. How long has it been? Oh, that's right, I haven't seen you since before I killed your wife!"

Marcan's face darkened with rage, and the Master placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, "Take it easy, my friend," he murmured.

"And the Master!" the Doctor continued, "It's been almost as long! Look at us! One big class reunion! And I believe," he turned his attention and the weapon back to Aryna, "That I've won the door prize."

"That's where you're wrong," another voice rang out.

Borusa emerged from the shadows, armed with an updated version of the Doctor's weapon.

"Lady Arynalexiananoellaviere," he nodded respectfully, "I had thought that you were dead."

"Which one of us?" she asked dryly.

"Both, actually. I see that the Doctor was perhaps not as thorough in his interrogation as he should have been. The fact that you're alive is proof enough of that. No matter," Borusa remarked dismissively, "You still hold all of the information I need. The Scrolls, if you please," he held out his free hand.

"Don't move," the Doctor ordered, sidearm still steadily trained on her.

Borusa steadied his aim with the intention of firing at the Doctor, but seemingly out of nowhere, the Doctor produced a weapon identical to the one aimed at Aryna. This one however, was pointed straight at Borusa.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you, Cardinal," the Doctor assumed the mocking tone he employed when using a person's formal title, "You see, I'm the one in control of this situation. I knew that you had no intention of keeping your promises. But you underestimate me Borusa, just as you always did!"

"If you _dare_ kill me then you'll never get out of here. The Time Lords will never let you get away with it!"

The Doctor laughed, "I've got nothing to lose, Borusa. And I have you to thank for that! Don't even try threatening me. It won't save your life."

"The Chancellery Guard will be here any moment," the desperate Cardinal threatened, "Cooperating with me is your only hope of escape. Killing me assures your death."

"Well, I see that I am out of time," the Doctor said calmly, "My dear Lady Aryna, if you would walk over here next to me…"

Aryna shook her head and remained where she was. The discharge from the energy weapon just barely missed her head and something behind her sparked. She cried out and ducked slightly.

"Now," the Doctor insisted.

"Aryna," the Master said quietly, "Do what he says. It will be alright."

Marcan was shaking with barely controlled anger. It was only the pressure of his friend's hand on his shoulder that kept him from attacking the Doctor with his bare hands. It was totally irrational for him to feel this way simply because Aryna was being threatened. Marcan was forced to acknowledge that in a very short time, he had come to care about this Aryna with the same intensity with which he had loved his wife. Realizing that his rage would only cloud his judgment, he worked to steady himself so that when the moment came for him to act, he could do so with a clear head.

Aryna looked to the Master and Marcan, hesitant to do as the Doctor ordered.

"I'm waiting," the Doctor reminded her impatiently.

Hugging the box to her chest she walked towards him, stopping just short of the weapon pointed squarely at her.

"Turn around," he instructed.

She did as she was told and turned her back to the Doctor. She was again facing the Master and Marc, but Alistair was nowhere to be seen. She wanted to ask if her companion was safe, but doing so would only put him in danger if the Doctor didn't realize that he was here.

The Doctor pocketed one weapon, but kept the other trained carefully on Borusa. He slipped an arm around her waist and held her firmly in front of him like a shield.

"Good," he said smoothly, "Everyone's staying calm. The Lady Aryna and I will take our leave. Naturally, if I'm followed, it will put her life at risk," he glanced meaningfully at the Master and Marcan, then returned his gaze to the Cardinal, "I know that you care even less about her life than I do Borusa, but you do care about the contents of the box she holds. It would be a shame if they were damaged because you tried something foolish."

The Doctor began to carefully back away, pulling Aryna along with him. But no one had noticed Alistair, quietly making his way around the group, through the shadows. He had been a few steps behind the Master and Marcan earlier, and had managed to stay hidden from sight. He stepped out of the dark right behind the Doctor. Raising the heavy wooden staff he had come across, he slammed it down onto the Doctor's arm, sending the pistol skittering across the floor.

Aryna took advantage of the Doctor's surprise and wrenched herself out of his grip, still clutching the box tightly. She picked up the fallen weapon, and held it loosely at her side. Looking first to the Doctor, then at Borusa she spoke.

"I'm really not sure which of you this should be pointed at."

That was the moment that the promised Chancellery guards arrived, accompanied by a Castellan with a familiar face.

"Jalin!" Aryna gasped.

"Castellan, madam," he corrected formally, "What is the meaning of this? Cardinal, I trust you have an explanation for calling us down here?"

"See for yourself," Borusa smirked, "The Doctor and his accomplices are back on Gallifrey, plotting against the High Council."

The Master broke in rather loudly, "That's preposterous! We're most certainly not his _accomplices_!"

"The Master," Castellan Jalin observed, "You've been in league with the Doctor before. I have no reason to doubt Cardinal Borusa's conclusions."

His jaw tightened at the accusation, "That was a very long time ago, and we all know the circumstances surrounding it. I'll go along with the official story in public, but I refuse to let you use your own lies as evidence against me!"

"Tread carefully, Doctor," Jalin cautioned, "Even if you are not here as an accomplice to the Doctor, the fact that you _are_ here could carry its own repercussions."

"This is utterly ridiculous!" the Marcan insisted, "Do you really think that I of all people would collaborate with _that_ Time Lord? You know just as well as I do that I _never would_!"

"Perhaps not," he conceded, "What of the other two?" he nodded in the direction of Aryna and Alistair.

"My name's Aryna, I'm a Time Lady, and this human is my companion, Alistair."

"_Lady_ Aryna?" Jalin asked calmly, but Aryna thought that she detected a flicker of something behind his gaze.

"She and the human crossed over from a parallel universe at the behest of the Doctor. One can only assume that they intend to aid him in his assassination attempts. Not only that, but the mere act of crossing over to our world has caused serious damage that, if not repaired soon, could bring about the destruction of both our universe and the one that she came from," Borusa smoothly explained.

"That's a lie!" Alistair spoke up, "We didn't chose to come here. We were brought against our will!"

"I find that rather hard to believe," Jalin said coldly.

"It's true, Jalin. The Doctor brought us here unwillingly. I've stayed to help the Master and Marcan bring the real traitors to justice. As soon as that's been done, Alistair and I will return to our own world, and seal off the tear that we were pulled through."

"Lady Aryna, do not address me so familiarly," he warned her coolly.

"Castellan," Borusa began, "In addition to their other crimes, it is evident that they intend to steal certain historical documents and artifacts. I believe the contents of the box in Lady Aryna's hands to be priceless. We must safeguard our heritage from the renegades and criminals."

"Oh no you don't!" Aryna protested vehemently, "These scrolls destroyed you once Borusa, and I won't allow it to happen again!"

She set the box down roughly and looked down the sights of the Doctor's weapon, intent on destroying the Black Scrolls before they could fall into the ambitious Cardinal's hands.

Borusa rushed towards her in a panic, "No!"

The Chancellery guard moved closer and she was aware of yelling and commotion surrounding her, but her focus was on the box and the rest seemed to fade from her consciousness. She fired one shot and watched the Black Scrolls of Rassilon disintegrate in a blaze of flame. Looking up towards the advancing guards, she dropped her weapon and raised her hands.

Borusa was consumed with rage towards the Time Lady who he perceived had been the ruination of his plans, just as her predecessor always had. In his anger he fired a blast from his energy weapon at her. He wanted her to pay for her meddling. He wanted her to die.

Events seemed almost to move in slow motion from Marcan's perspective. He watched Aryna destroy the Black Scrolls, and felt great pride at her bravery. A split second later, he watched Borusa aim and fire. Without thinking, he threw himself at Aryna, pushing her to the floor and out of the way.

Aryna sat up quickly, "Marcan?!"

She saw him face down on the floor, unmoving. Turning him over, she immediately noticed the charred edges of his coat. Eyeing the black streak across part of his chest, she knew that he'd taken a shot that had been meant for her. She didn't think it would prove fatal, but he would have to regenerate to survive. Pulling him closer to her, she held him in her arms.

"Aryna," he began.

"Shhh," she interrupted, "It's alright. You'll be fine once you regenerate."

"No," he whispered raggedly, "I won't."

"But… it's not that bad, Marc. Please… just…"

He cut her off, "Lucky number 13, Aryna."

It had always been a bit of a joke between them, the fact that Time Lords ended their lives on a number that humans considered to be bad luck. They had laughingly dubbed it "lucky number 13" when they were younger. Back then, death had seemed a long way off.

"I can't…" she trailed off and looked at the smoldering pile of ashes that was the only thing left of the Scrolls, "I don't know how. I'm sorry Marc…"

"Don't be," he shook his head slightly and winced painfully at the effort, "Seeing you just once more… That was enough."

Tightening her embrace slightly, she leaned close and tenderly kissed him good-bye.

"I love you Marc," she whispered, loud enough for his ears alone, and rested her forehead on his.

"I'll love you until the end of time Aryna," he gasped with his last breath.

She felt the moment that he slipped away. A cry of anguish left her lips before she could stop it. The pain was crushing. Her mind knew that he was not her Marcan, that he never had been, but she could never convince either of her hearts of that fact. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Alistair watching her. The look on his face told her that he would do anything to help her, but there was nothing that he could do. She focused on the beat of her hearts for several moments, calming her tempestuous emotions. This wasn't over yet. She could grieve later.

As Aryna worked to rein in her anger, the Doctor's flared. Glaring at the now disarmed Borusa, the Doctor let his temper burst into a raging fire of hatred. Borusa had not only planned to kill him, but he had tried to kill Aryna. In his insanity, it didn't occur to him that he _had_ killed Aryna over 300 years ago. The thought of someone trying to murder the one woman who he'd ever loved drove him over the edge. Quietly, he pulled his second weapon from his pocket. Taking careful aim he fired one fatal shot.

Cardinal Borusa crumpled to the floor, dead before he even fell. Pandemonium erupted. The Doctor had dropped the sidearm, but the Chancellery Guard all had theirs trained on him and Castellan Jalin was calling out an order for them to fire. Aryna acted decisively.

"No!" she called out in a tone that caused everyone in the room to fall silent. Interposing herself between the Doctor and the guards, she continued, "Enough people have died today. No more!"

She stood firmly, staring down every one of the guards, and even the Castellan. Even suffering the loss of his greatest friend, the Master had to smile ever so slightly as he watched her. She mirrored the Aryna that she and Marcan had known. It was easy to see why Marc had become attached to her in such a short span of time. She was obviously a woman of principle and resolve, and the Master had to admire her for that.

Jalin sighed wearily, "Guards," he spoke harshly, "Place the Doctor under arrest."

They did as they were told, and just as they were leading him away, he paused and spoke to Aryna.

"Thank-you."

She managed to nod, but couldn't bring herself to say anything. It was still a struggle to suppress the bitterness she felt towards him.

"A full report will be required of course. From all of you," Jalin addressed them sternly.

"Think again, Castellan," she replied with irritation, "We still have work to do. I don't belong here and neither does my companion. Not to mention the gap between dimensions that _must_ be sealed, and quickly!"

"We will decided how best to deal with the situation," he informed her.

"You arrogant, heartless, idiot!" the Master exploded, "Your grandfather just _died_ and all you can think about is interrogating us?!"

"Do not forget your place, Master; you are not in charge here. Marcan was just as much a renegade as you and the Doctor. I severed any ties with him long ago."

Aryna stood directly in front of Jalin, hands planted on her hips and fire in her eyes, "Don't. You. Dare. Don't _ever_ compare Marcan to the _Doctor._ He may not have fit your perfect little Time Lord mold, but he was a _good_ man. Better than you, apparently!"

After flinging those final words at the grim Castellan, Aryna's bravado crumpled slightly and she fell silent. Alistair and the Master stood on either side of her; wordlessly lending their support and glaring at Jalin with expressions that made him consider carefully his reply.

"Very well," he conceded, "Lady Aryna and the human may return to their own universe. We will see that the gap is sealed off to prevent any further damage once you are safely through."

Aryna gave him a curt nod and turned her back on him dismissively.

"Can you pinpoint the exact location of my TARDIS?" she asked the Master.

"Easily."

"Right then, we'd better get to it."

"Do not try to slip away," the Castellan warned the Master, "I still require answers from you."

"I won't leave until I've made the arrangements for Marcan, but neither will I answer any of your questions until my duty to my friend is done," the Master informed Jalin brusquely, irritation seeping into his voice.

"If you insist," sighed the Castellan, tired of arguing with the Master and Aryna.

Casting one final gaze at Marcan's still body, Aryna led the small group out of the vault.

As they emerged from the opening back into the enormous hall, Alistair shined his torch in the direction opposite of where the Master's TARDIS waited. He did a double-take and nearly began jumping up and down.

"Just a minute!" he said excitedly, "We may not need to scan for the TARDIS after all!"

He raced up to the familiar red Police Box with Aryna and the Master following just a step behind.

In spite of everything, a wide smile brightened her face, "Alistair, do you have your key?"

"Yeah, of course," he pulled it from his pocket and held it up, "Where's yours?"

"The Doctor stole it I'm afraid," she answered grimly, "And I _don't_ feel like waiting around to get it back."

Alistair unlocked the wooden box and the door swung open invitingly. The Master placed a hand on Aryna's arm.

"Before you go, there's something in my TARDIS that I think you should have."

"Go ahead," she nodded to Alistair, "I'll be along in a few minutes."

"OK," her companion agreed quietly, recognizing how hard leaving must be for her.

"Just don't lock the door!" she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

Entering the console room felt like coming home to Alistair, and he smiled up at the odd time machine.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you again," he told the aging ship.

He waited, straining to hear a reply from the TARDIS, but it was a pointless effort.

Disappointed, he continued the conversation anyway, "It's just you and me now… We're all she has left…"

While Alistair couldn't exactly _hear_ her response, he was absolutely sure that he could feel the sadness emanating from the TARDIS.

He patted the console comfortingly, "Don't worry, she'll be OK old girl, she's always alright…"

?????????????


	12. Goodbye

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, or any of the official characters.**

_A/N: There is just one chapter left after this one! :-)_

Once in his TARDIS, the Master headed straight for the door on the other side of the console room, but Aryna hesitated. He turned and looked at her with compassion. Wordlessly, he took her hand and walked along the endless corridors until they came to a particular room. The second they stepped through the door, Aryna knew at once that it had been Marcan's. A wave of sorrow threatened to drown her, but the gentle pressure of the Master's hand on hers gave her just enough strength to carry on for the moment. He released her hand and set about gathering up several thick books. Once he was certain that he had all of them, he held out the stack to Aryna.

"These are Marcan's journals. I'm not certain how far back they go, or what he even wrote in them, but they should be yours."

"I can't," she replied softly, "He wasn't really _my_ Marc. It wouldn't be right…"

"Of course you can! You may have been from two different realities, but any idiot could see that you connected. He loved you, Aryna. He loved _both_ of you. He died protecting you. He would have wanted me to give these to you."

She reached out tentatively and accepted the books, "Are you sure that you don't want to keep them yourself?"

He looked at the floor and blinked hard to stem the tears that fought to spill down his face, "Marc… was my friend. He's been my _only_ friend for so long now. Everyone else has been gone for so long… so very long…" taking a deep breath, he looked up at her, "He was my best friend, but _you_ were his family. And don't even _think_ of suggesting that I give them to that brat of a grandson! I have no idea what the Jalin from your Gallifrey is like, but this one broke Marcan's hearts when he disowned both of you."

"Jalin… My Jalin, traveled with me, for a while. After Marc was killed, I left Gallifrey… I couldn't stay any longer… so I just left. Shortly after that, Jalin asked to go with me. I don't think his mother ever forgave me, but I let him come. He was quite different from the Castellan."

"The war?" he asked noting her use of the past tense.

"Yeah," she admitted bitterly, "That accursed Time War claimed the life of every friend and family I ever had… save one."

"Your Doctor," he realized.

Aryna nodded, "He's more a mirror of you than the Doctor, though. The Master in my universe is like the Doctor in yours. But long ago, before everything changed, he was my friend too. I don't know what happened to change him so, but I always regretted that he had ceased to be the friend I'd come to know and care about so much… I'm glad that things were different here."

"The Doctor was my friend as well," he told her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "And I just hope that there is a world out there where none of that changed. A world where all of us remained friends. One where we all still sit in those fields of red, watching the stars and dreaming together like we always did…"

"I think there is," she said thoughtfully, looking down at the leather-bound books in her arms, "I have to go."

He nodded and they retraced their path back to the console room. Before leaving, she turned back to the Master.

"You'll make sure that the arrangements for Marc are taken care of?"

"You have my word."

"I gave him a key… a key to my TARDIS. Will you see that it's with him when… when…" she trailed off and a tear streaked down her cheek.

He moved close and pulled her into his arms, "I will, Aryna."

Suppressed sobs shook her frame and her voice was unsteady when she spoke, "I would stay, but I dare not. I've stayed too long already."

"I know," he assured her, "I'll take care of everything. I almost wish that I could go with you."

She laughed slightly in spite of the pain, "That would really throw my Doctor for a loop!"

"Promise me that you'll find him when you return. You need a friend, and I can't be there for you, not this time…"

"Alright," she agreed, "But I want _you_ to promise me something as well."

His arms tightened slightly, and she knew that he was struggling as much as she was, "Anything for you."

Pulling back slightly she looked up at him, "Find someone. Don't travel alone."

After considering for several long moments, he reluctantly nodded, "I'll find someone. Who knows, maybe I'll even take a human along for the ride. That Alistair didn't turn out to be quite as useless as I first thought."

"I told you so," she smiled sadly up at him.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, "Don't grieve too hard. A good man has loved you, twice. Take some comfort in that," he let her go, and took a step back.

"I want you to know, even though I'm not here, I will always be your friend. And remember that somewhere far away, there is a Time Lady who hasn't forgotten you, and she never will."

She saw the faint sheen of tears in his eyes, and she knew that they mirrored her own.

Finally, the Master found his voice again, "You tell that Doctor of yours that he'd better look out for you. Because if he doesn't, I'll cross the void myself to deal with him."

She reached out and squeezed the lonely Time Lord's hand, "Good-bye, my friend. Take care."

"And you. Thank-you… for so much."

He watched her close the door behind her without looking back, wondering if it was because she was trying to hide her tears from him. His TARDIS was quiet… so quiet. Reaching into the inner pocket of his coat he pulled out a photograph. It was a picture of four young Gallifreyans, two boys and two girls. It had been taken before they entered the Academy, before everything had changed… All of them had been laughing, the best of friends, convinced that they always would be. If there was a world out there where that dream had become reality, he hoped that they understood how fortunate they were…

?????????????

Alistair took in the stack of books in Aryna's arms and her red-rimmed eyes, but decided against saying anything. She walked to the door leading to the maze of corridors and disappeared. Making her way to her own room, she carefully placed the stack of books on a small writing desk, next to her own leather-covered journals. Placing a hand on the top volume, she promised herself that sometime soon she would read every word. Soon… but not just yet. Returning to the console room she finally spoke to her loyal companion.

"Time to go home."

He nodded and gave her a small smile, "That sounds good."

She busied herself with the controls, focusing on navigating their way back to their own universe. It was a bumpy ride, certainly, but not nearly as bad as the one that had taken them there in the first place. The last shudder died down and the TARDIS stabilized.

"Are we through?" Alistair asked.

"Right back where we started from. And… the Time Lords sealed the tear," she noted, consulting her console, "Both worlds are safe again… for the moment anyway."

"Trouble will find us. It always does," Alistair declared simply, "Where are we off to next?"

"There's someone I need to find. A promise I have to keep…"

??????????


	13. Promise Kept

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of the official characters. I do not profit from my use of them in this story.**

The Doctor wandered aimlessly through the open air market. He was discovering that this was one of those things that was definitely more fun with someone along for the trip. He sighed wearily and considered just heading back to the TARDIS when he spotted a familiar face watching him through the crowd. He started to smile, but the moment their eyes met, he suspected that something was very wrong. This fear was confirmed when the tears that she could no longer hold back began to fall. She took one step towards him, and he ran through the crowd to meet her. He wrapped his arms around her, and she held tight to him, tears leaving a damp spot on the coat that Janis Joplin had given him. Her breath came in unsteady spurts as she tried desperately to stop crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice laced with concern, "Is it Alistair?"

"No," she shook her head, "Alistair's wandering around here somewhere; he's fine. It's just… just…" she took a deep, steadying breath and tipped her head back to look at him, "It's a very long story."

"I have time," he assured her, "Come on."

They walked, the Doctor keeping one arm around her shoulders, until they found a rather deserted café. Aryna ordered the local equivalent of a cup of hot tea. It wasn't Earl Grey, but she found it soothing nonetheless.

"Why did you find me?" the Time Lord sitting across from her asked, "What happened?"

"I made a promise. He wanted me to find you… He said that I needed a friend, and this time, he couldn't be there for me... So I came."

Her cryptic answer was par for the course, and the Doctor was guilty of the same on many occasions, but he still found it frustrating.

"Who told you?" he persisted.

"The Master," her answer came softly, and she looked up at his sharp intake of breath, "But not the one you know. I was pulled into another dimension, an alternate reality. And I met that world's version of the Master, except, he was like you…"

The story spilled out of her, and at times the Doctor could barely keep up with her, she was talking so fast. Other parts were punctuated by long silences, as she worked through the pain of her memories.

"So much happened, so quickly," she stated tiredly, exhausted from the telling, "And I met people… people who I recognized, but they weren't the people I knew. All of them were _so_ different… except for Marc. He was exactly the same. And I honestly don't know which was worse."

"Are you sure that none of the damage was permanent?" the Doctor asked, worry etching his face.

"The Time Lords closed off the gap before…"

"No," he interrupted gently, "I meant you. After what he did to you… will you be…"

"Yeah," she jumped in, "I just need some rest. For some reason, he made sure that I'd be alright. I can't think why."

"I can," he said it so quietly that Aryna wasn't even sure that she had heard it.

"What?"

"If their Aryna was anything like you, then she was always a good friend, and she would have never given up on him. And he saw the same thing in you."

"Now you're just trying to flatter me."

"Nah, I've known a few Time Lords who had a bit of a soft spot for you, with good reason," he smiled.

"Including you?" she asked with a mischievous grin.

"Well, you know how it is…"

"Every one of you hated me at first," she reminded him.

"Even you have to admit that you were rather insufferable back then," he pointed out.

"Yeah," she said in that way that reminded him of Donna, "Turns out you were a good influence on me, I guess."

He raised an eyebrow, "I don't think your parents agreed."

"No," she responded quickly, "No, they did not! But Marc did… And in the end, his was the only opinion that ever really mattered to me."

For a few minutes they sat without uttering a sound, each wrapped up in their own reflections. It was finally Aryna who broke the silence.

"I think," she began, rising to her feet, "That it's time for me to find Alistair and be going."

"Will you be…"

"Fine," she completed the sentence for him, "I'll be fine. I'm always fine. I have to be… I have a lot to think about… A lot to sort through… But I really will be fine."

"You know how to find me," he told her.

"And you know how to find me," she smiled, "Thank-you."

"Least I could do for a friend," he shrugged.

After a final hug, they went their separate ways. The Doctor back to his TARDIS, and Aryna off to find Alistair. After collecting her companion and returning to her TARDIS, Alistair inquired about where they were going next.

"Somewhere quiet," she answered thoughtfully, "I could do with a rest."


End file.
